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DETECTIVE DOB BRIDGER. 


By PL. Is/L. TAYLOR. No. 34. 









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THE SECRET SERVICE SERIES-NO. 34. 

Issued JMoiitlily. 

DEYOTEI) TO STORIES OF THE DETECTION OF CRIME. 


Subscription Price, $3 Per Year. AUGUST, 1890. 

Copyrighted , 1890 , by Street & Smith. 

Entered at the Post-Office , New York , as Second-Class Matter . 





OR, 

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V 

R. M. TAYLOR. 


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DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE NIGHT EXPRESS MYSTERY. 

“Seeree-go! ’e, ’e, ’e ! See-ree-go \ /? 

It was the wild, meaningless cry of an idiot under the 
lash for the crime of garroting. 

As imitated by Detective Bob Bridger, it sounded to me 
like the screaming note of a sea bird which I had once 
heard while hanging on, and bereft of all hope, in the rig- 
ging of a wrecked ship. 

The bird’s discordant cry seemed then to be the exulta- 
tion of a demon. 

It now lingers in my memory as if it had been the mes- 
sage of an angel. 

For barely had it sounded when the fierce hurricane 
subsided, the toppling waves became long and rounded, and 
our wrecked ship rode safely until succor approached. 

I had asked Detective Bridger to tell me the tale of the 
Scotch Detective, and I begin my version of the story, as 
he began his, with the cry of the silly garroter, as above. 

Detective Bob Bridger has been for years one of the most 
active and successful secret service officers in the employ 
of the United States Government. 

He has amassed a comfortable fortune, married a Phila- 
delphia girl, and now takes things easy. 

On his shirt-front he sports, at times, a solitaire gem of 
great value, 


8 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEB. 


The fellow was a wild eyed greenhorn, and Dan hustled 
him out on the platform. 

A few moments later, like the persistent darky in the 
negro minstrel sketch, the same man entered again. 

Again Dan hustled him out, and again he returned. 

His third entrance so exasperated Dan that, seizing up a 
poker from the coal-box, he rushed upon the intruder as 
if to strike him down. 

The unfortunate immigrant, crazed with terror, has- 
tened forth to the platform and sprang from the train. 

The train was rushing at the time through a rocky cut at 
a fifty-mile-an-hour gait. 

The ill-fated passenger struck the left bank of the cut, 
and bounding back under the iron wheels was cut to 
pieces. 

Barely had Dan ended telling of the sad affair when the 
engineer blew for Maysville station. 

Here dwelt a gang of roughs who delighted in beating 
the conductor out of a ride when they could. 

The train having stopped, discharged, and received its 
passengers, started ahead again at Bridger’s signal. 

He, as usual, entered the first coach, and throwing the 
glare of his lamp in the passengers’ faces, proceeded 
through in quest of tickets. 

He was thinking intently the while of Dan Colgate’s tale 
regarding the German immigrant who on the night pre- 
vious leaped from the train and killed himself. 

Near the middle of the coach a tall man lay spread out 
upon two seats, and sound asleep. 

He was a boss raftsman, and was returning from a trip 
down the Alleghany River to Pittsburg, on a lumber raft. 

The man wore a soft black hat, and had so placed it as 
to completely cover his face. 

One of the tricks of the Maysville roughs was to thus 
hide their faces, so that the conductor might think them 
sleeping through passengers and pass them by. 

On lifting the man’s hat that he might see his features 
Bridger touched his hand. 

Perceiving who the passenger was he passed on, leaving 
the man still sleeping. 

When he had passed half way through the second coach 
he had occasion to turn about, and thought he perceived 
some one rushing from side to side, in the darkness, upon 
the platform. 

As the train was nearing Pittsville station he supposed 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


9 


that it was the brakeman — for, in those days, steam brakes 
were not in general use. 

He continued on to the end of the coach, when the news- 
boy, with pallid features, came running into the car from 
the front, and toward him. 

With trembling hands he clutched Bridger’s arm, and 
whispered in his ear that the tall man had sprung from the 
train. 

A moment later the raftsman’s companions came through 
from the front car excitedly looking for their missing 
friend, and it became evident that what the boy had said 
was true. 

When the train pulled up at Pittsville station Bridger 
bade the section men hasten back along the track on their 
hand-car. 

A mile from the station they found the unfortunate pas- 
senger. 

He lay in a crushed and bleeding mass where he had 
fallen, and only lived an hour. 

He was conscious, however, and said that he had been 
asleep, and dreaming, when he became suddenly possessed 
of the delusion that he was on a swift running raft, and 
must manage to jump from it to the river’s bank, and 
make a landing. 

The raft seemed borne along so rapidly that for a mo- 
ment he hesitated, when, glancing behind him, he thought 
he perceived an angry man rushing upon him with an up- 
lifted iron poker. 

In terror he ran from his seat to the platform and sprang 
toward the delusive bank, awaking to hear the train thun- 
der by, and to find himself, stunned and bleeding, at the 
edge of the track. 

On learning these facts, Bridger believed that Dan Col- 
gate’s story of the German’s fate, at the time so vividly 
pictured on his brain, had been in some mysterious way 
conveyed, by his touch, to the raftsman’s brain, so as to 
shape the man’s dream and cause his death. 

One week afterward on Bridger’s train, at the same spot 
and hour, a second passeger met his death under circum- 
stances exactly similar. 

The people along the line became alarmed. 

They did not understand that every human being’s brain 
is an electric battery, and the body’s nerves its communi- 
cating wires. 

They, therefore, would not believe that a man of Bob 
Bridger’s powerful frame and magnetic stature might in- 


10 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


nocently, by a mere touch of the hand, telegraph the rul- 
ing impression of his brain to that of a slumbering man, so 
as to make that impression the law of the sleeper’s action. 

They intimated instead that Bridger and his brakemen 
were engaged in robbing passengers and then hurling their 
victims to certain death from the dark platforms of the 
swift running train. 

A newspaper correspondent, whose name was something 
like Black, approached Lew Hutchinson, Bridger’ s mail- 
train engineer, on the day subsequently to the second pas- 
senger’s death. 

Assuming a tragic air, he said : 

“Do you think, sir, that Conductor Bridger would do a 
deed of blood ?” 

The engineer, oil-can and torch in hand, was oiling 
around, and supposing the man to be a “crank” suffering 
from the delirium, responded : 

“I have no liquor on the engine, cap, but there’s a can of 
first-class kerosene there — if that will do you any good. *” 

The indignant scribe forthwith hastened to his home, and 
penned an article to his paper in which he charged that the 
railroad men of the line were surely banded together to do 
deeds of robbery and murder. 

Meanwhile, puzzled at the strange deaths of the two 
sleeping passengers, and fearful of further repetitions of 
the mystery, Bob Bridger resolved to resign his position. 

When he had made the extra trip according to the 
superintendent’s order he again entered that officer’s pres- 
ence. 

To his surprise he found both the superintendent and the 
general manager impatiently awaiting his coming. 

“Conductor Bridger,” said the general manager, “in re- 
gard to your resignation as conductor, I do not wish you to 
quit the company’s employ, and, if agreeable, will assign 
you service in another branch. ” 

“In what capacity, sir?” 

“I wish you to go to Europe as the company’s special de- 
tective.” 

“To accomplish what?” 

“The recovery of a large amount of money recently em- 
bezzled from the treasurer’s safe by a young man whom 
you have doubtless often seen. ” 

“Who, sir?” 

“Richard Hanford, the treasurer’s chief clerk.” 

“Possible ?” 

“You know him, then?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


11 


“ Very well, by sight, from having seen him frequently 
upon my train. ” 

“I thought you would.” 

“And you are assured that he has embezzled the funds, 
and sailed for Europe ?” 

“It is all too true. Three weeks since he asked and ob- 
tained one week’s leave of absence. When a fortnight had 
transpired and he not returned, the treasurer began to fear 
that all was not right. On examination funds to the 
amount of sixty thousand dollars were found missing. 
And we have since learned that a young man answering 
Hanford’s description procured a ticket for London, and, 
two weeks past, sailed from New York on a Cunard 
steamer.” 

Then why have you not notified the London police, and 
had him arrested ?” 

“It is a delicate matter. Richard Hanford is the only son 
of a widow, and she the only sister of a prominent officer 
of the road. And what I want you to do is to trace the 
young man, and arrange with the detective officers in 
whatever city you run him down to apprehend him m a 
secret, make believe manner. When you have thus re- 
covered the company’s funds in his possession you will pay 
the officers liberally for their services, release Hanford 
from custody, and persuade him to return in penitence to 
his heart broken mother to be forgiven. You see it is our 
aim to keep the matter quiet. It would be the death of 
Hanford’s mother, and a heavy blow upon the officer on 
whose recommendation he was appointed if the thing 
gained publicity. This gentleman has placed an amount 
sufficient to cover the steal in the treasurer’s keeping, and 
we have agreed to keep the matter quiet. The rest I leave 
in your hands, Bridger, believing that you are shrewd 
enough to work it. ” 

And thus it happened that Bob Bridger was frightened 
from his position as conductor to become a detective. 


CHAPTER II. 

BOB BRIDGER’ S TRIP TO LONDON. 

On the Saturday following Bridger sailed for England. 
Arriving in London, he hastened to the unpretentious 
building near the House of Parliament known as Scotland 
Yard, the headquarters of the London police. 


12 DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEB. 

Entering, he stated his business to the sergeant at the 
desk. 

“You are an entire stranger in London?” asked the 
officer. 

“Precisely,” returned Bridger. “In all Europe there is 
nothing with which I am familiar save, possibly, the face 
of the man I seek. ” 

“You will then require an assistant, but whom to as- 
sign I am puzzled to know. Our men are all very busy at 
present — at least such of them as I might choose to aid you 
best. Let me see — ” 

At that moment a tall, handsome young man entered 
hastily from the street. 

His attire, although not showy, was as faultless as if he 
had stepped forth from a bandbox, and any lady would 
have voted him on sight a charming young gentleman. 

His air was social and easy going — that of a man who 
could bounce into a better acquaintanceship in five minutes 
than the majority of men could accomplish, with the same- 
subject, in as many years. 

His face was clean shaven, his features were regular, 
and his eyes the most magnetic and marvelous that Bridger 
had ever beheld — save in a looking-glass. 

They were large, black, kind, laughing eyes, but so clear 
and piercing that, as they squarely met Bridger’ s searching 
gray orbs, a mutual and involuntary shudder coursed 
through the nerves of the two young men. 

“Ah, here is Fandon !” said the sergeant. “I’ll send him 
out with you. ” 

“In an instant I’ll be with you,” quoth Fandon, and he 
darted by to an inner office to report a case he had been 
at work upon. 

“If any man can aid you he can,” said the officer. “He 
is the youngest man on the metropolitan force, but there 
is no shrewder detective in Scotland Yard.” 

A moment later Fandon stood at the desk awaiting or- 
ders. 

The sergeant introduced Bridger as an American detec- 
tive, and stated the nature of his business. 

Bridger then, at his request, gave an accurate descrip- 
tion of Richard Hanford. 

As he finished speaking the Scotch detective grasped 
his hand and shook it warmly. 

“ It’s a pleasure once in a while to shake a live Yankee’s 
hand, isn’t it, sergeant?” he said. “They have things 
pretty much their own way over there, with their baked 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGET. 


13 


beans, pumpkin pies, border ruffians, wild Indians, and 
California gold mines : but, betimes, we have to give them 
a point or two, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! But now let me see, your 
name is — ” he continued, addressing Bridger. 

“ Bridger.” 

“ But the first, short name, is — ” 

“Bob.” 

“Bobe, eh? Well, my short name is Roe. Remember 
that, Bobe, and never say Fandon.” 

Bridger noticed that Fandon spoke with a slight Scotch 
accent, and, from the levity of his manner, began to fear 
that, notwithstanding his marvelous eyes, the prospect of 
being materially aided in the hunt for Hanford by this 
tastily dressed joker was so small that, withdrawing his 
hand somewhat curtly from the Scotch detective’s grasp, 
he asked, abruptly : 

“ Well, is there any hope of finding this Richard Hanford 
in London ?” 

“Bless your heart, yes !” responded Fandon, pulling forth 
his watch as he spoke. “ It is now ten o’clock. At four 
P. M. I’ll wager you a mug of beer we’ll have the ‘dar- 
beys’ on his wrists, and every dollar he has left in our 
possession.” 

Bridger started back in astonishment at this sudden re- 
turn to business-like principles, and ejaculated : 

“ Surely you don’t mean it?” 

“Mean it? Nothing simpler. I’ve had that youth’s 
measure in my eye for a fortnight past. He’s registered 
at Somerset House as Emanuel Picard, and his manners 
have become as grand as his name. You wouldn’t take 
him for a Yankee clerk now, for he has so diligently set 
about aping the London swell that he has succeeded in 
fashioning himself into nearly as disagreeable a jackass as 
his prototype. And, finding that the aforesaid metropoli- 
tan jackass attends the races, he has necessarily learned to 
‘talk horse’ by the yard, ‘ba jove, you know.’ In truth, 
I consider that about the swiftest move we can make to 
clip his spreading feathers will be to drive to Epsom 
Downs’ race course direct. My word for it, we’ll find him 
there at to day’s special meeting, strutting about among 
the book-makers, and giving himself airs as huge as the 
ship he came over in. Come, we’ll hail a cab and be off.” 

Fandon instructed the cabman, who came at his beck, to 
pull up first at Millbank prison. 

As the twain rolled off in the vehicle, Fandon said : 


14 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“ Tell me, now, Bobe, are you connected with the New 
York force?” 

”No ; I am simply the railroad company’s special.” 

“ Looking up rogues that break into goods-vans and the 
like, eh?” 

“This is my first case.” 

“ Then you have only recently become an officer ?” 

“Yes. Until recently I have been a conductor, or, as you 
say here, a guard. ” 

“ Then your present position is a promotion ?” 

“ I do not so regard it. ” 

“ Then how came you to make the change ?” 

“ I was frightened into it. ” 

“ Frightened into it ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ How?” 

“ In a very mysterious way. ” 

At the Scotch detective’s suggestion, Bridger then nar- 
rated the entire story of the night-express mystery as shown 
in the chapter preceding. 

As Bridger proceeded Fandon became intensely inter- 
ested. 

He turned half way about on the seat, grasped Bridger’ s 
hand, and looking directly into his eyes, drank in eagerly 
every word. 

When Bridger had ended his tale Fandon said : 

“ Bobe, tell me, am I to understand that you believe in 
the unseen forces of which you speak ?” 

“How can I disbelieve when such evidence has been 
thrust upon me ?” 

“ Then your tale has simply brought coals to New Castle, 
Bobe.” 

“How so?” 

“ Because I am one of the most superstitious fellows you 
ever saw. And, although I have never experienced this 
telegraphy of thoughts to another’s brain, I certainly be- 
lieve that my own brain has been telegraphed upon while 
in slumber.” 

“ By whom ?” 

“ By some unseen power.” 

“ Explain. ” 

“ You will not deride or call me insane ?” 

“Not I.” 

“ Then, at times, when I am sleeping, I have the most 
wonderful dreams. Dreams that widely differ from the 
common run of dreams that every one has. For instance, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


15 


when I was but twelve years old, the night before my 
father was shbt, f dreamed I saw him enter a dark store- 
room. He flashed the eye of his dark-lantern, as he ad- 
vanced, upon the floor- way. It was strewn with cloths, 
and a large bag stood nearly half full of goods. Crouching 
beneath a table, in one corner, he perceived two thieves. 
He pointed his revolver toward them and bade them come 
forth. As he spoke a burly burglar arose softly from be- 
hind a bale of cloth to his left, leveled a pistol, and fired. 
My father fell dead upon the floor, aiid the three men lifted 
their bag and hastily departed. ” 

“ Did you speak to your father of this dream ?” 

“ I tried to do so, but he had gone from the house in the 
morning before I arose, and although I searched every- 
where for him I could not find him. My God ! if I only 
might have found him — for under the precise circum- 
stances of the dream he met his death on the night after- 
ward. ” 

“Wonderful !” 

“ But stranger yet, Bobe, the faces of the three burglars 
were fixed on my memory. I looked through the Hogues’ 
Gallery pictures and found them. The man who shot my 
father was called Tober Jack, and his two pals were known 
as Flopper and Cole. Detective John Plinny, who had 
been a great friend of my father, told me that a dream was 
no evidence, and bade me keep quiet about it. He had 
some faith in the mystery, however, and shadowed the 
three burglars to a 4 boozing ken’ which they frequented. 

I made myself up like a ‘ kinchin cove, ’ and hung about the 
place. Plinny furnished me with plenty of money, and as 
I spent it freely and talked thieves’ ‘patter’ like a veteran, 
I soon got into the good graces of ‘Liverpool’ Sal, the 
landlady. I became a great favorite of the crooks that 
frequented the place, and they looked on me as a shrewd 
young ‘prig.’ One night Plinny shadowed ‘Tober’ Jack and 
his two pals, Flopper and Cole, to the ‘ ken. ’ He gave me 
instructions how to proceed, and waited in readiness with 
his men. I entered tbe place, and at once began chatting 
with Liverpool Sal, who had taken a great fancy to me. 
The place was filled with thieves— men and women. The. 
air was blue with tobacco smoke, and the barmaids busy 
passing about drinks, bread, cheese, and the like, among 
the noisy throng. ‘Tober’ Jack and his pals sat at a table 
by themselves drinking and talking. At length ‘Tober’ 
Jack arose from his seat and crossed the room toward a 
woman who had beckoned to him. As he passed me I 


16 DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 

nudged him, and said in an undertone : Lay low, Jack, 
‘Blackfriars !’ ” 

He stopped, and bending his ear close to my lips, said : 

“What’s up ?” 

“ Flopper and Cole have grown ‘ leaky, ’ and I ‘ twigged’ 
them ‘cacklin’ to a ‘fly-cop’ about you ‘croakin’ the 
‘crusher’ in the store.” 

“When?” 

“Yesterday. So lay low, for they’re workin’ with the 
‘fly-cops’ to ‘pull you in,’ and ‘twist’ you.” 

“ ‘Tober’ Jack started back, and a look that meant mur 
der flashed from his eyes. 

“ He glanced furiously toward the two ‘ cracksmen’ in the 
corner, then, catching my arm, dragged me toward them. 

“ Are those the men ?” he cried, as he paused near the 
astonished burglars. 

“Both of them,” I replied. “I heard them ‘peachin’ to 
a ‘fly-cop’ on the ‘walk.’ ” 

“ ‘What’s the “kid” givin’ “guff” on? Come here!’ 
roared Flopper, and he made a move as if to clutch me. 
But ‘Tober’ Jack shoved me back out of his reach, and 
pulling forth a ‘ billy, ’ knocked him senseless on the floor. 
A general uproar ensued in the ‘ ken. ’ Meanwhile ‘ Tober’ 
Jack attacked Cole, and the fight was waxing hot between 
them, when Plinny and his men entered the ‘ken,’ and 
striking right and left, secured the three men and led them 
away. 

“Flopper and Cole were now easily ‘worked’ by Plinny 
in their cells. They were led to believe that ‘Tober’ Jack, 
to shield himself, had charged them with the murder, and 
put up the job with the police to have them arrested. The 
result was they turned queen’s e vidence, were sent up for 
light terms, while ‘Tober’ Jack was convicted of the mur- 
der, confessed it, and was hanged. ” 

“ Is Plinny now on the force ?” asked Bridger. 

“ No ; he is an old man, became rheumatic, and is now 
employed in the British Museum. He is the only man to 
whom I mention my superstitions, and he will relish greatly 
to hear me tell him of your strange experience on the rail- 
way. ” 

“By the way,” added the Scotch detective, “to show you 
his interest and friendship, Bobe, the other day a case 
came to the museum containing, among other things, six 
spirit glasses such as are made and used by East Indian 
necromancers to produce sleep. They are so artfully con- 
trived that I have never yet found a man who could hold 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


17 


one in his hand and gaze at it steadily for even five min- 
utes without falling off into deep slumber. Well, one of 
these glasses I speak of was broken, and so Plinny marked 
two broken on the bill, and placed one in his pocket for 
me. And here it is. ” 

As the Scotch detective spoke he produced what seemed 
to be an oval, flat-bottomed, circular paper-weight, some 
three inches in diameter, the bottom of which was of thin 
sheet-iron, carefully fitted and cemented upon the glass. 

“I warn you, ” continued Fandon, “ not to gaze long or 
intently at it, for so sure as the warmth and electricity 
from your hand causes the fluid within to move you are 
gone.” 

u I ’ll risk it,” returned Bridger, taking the glass in his 
hand. 

He perceived that it was heavy, and, on closer inspec- 
tion, seemed a cleverly contrived ink-stand. 

It was filled with a jet-black fluid, while directly in its 
center, and beneath the upper glass, was an open glass 
circle an inch and a half in diameter, which appeared to be 
the mouth of an inner bottle. 

Any one would have considered it a clever puzzle, the 
puzzle being how to get at the ink. 

Soon after Bridger took hold of it the fluid began to 
pour over into the mouth of the inner bottle. 

At every instant, as he gazed, the movement became 
faster, and at length it seemed to bring up dregs from the 
bottom, which appeared to be tiny particles of silver and 
gold. 

The current of the fluid now assumed a regular course. 

It rushed outward in centrifugal motion upon the bottom 
of the glass, and then up its sides, with marvelous swift- 
ness. 

At the top it turned in, in centripetal motion, and 
plunged down in the center, forming a busy whirlpool. 

Bridger became fascinated looking at it. He could not 
have withdrawn his eyes from it if he had tried. 

The fluid was no longer black, but a bright gray. 

Gradually the plunge of the whirlpool’s center seemed to 
grow deeper and its circumference greater and greater, 
until at length it appeared to Bridger as if he were hanging 
over the edge of a great circular Niagara. 

The roar of an ocean of rushing, plunging, plashing 
waters seemed also to sound in his ears. 

An instant more, and, with a gentle start, as if he had 
plunged downward, all was dark. 


18 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


Bridger saw or heard nothing more. 

He was asleep. 

Perceiving his condition, Fandon rested his hand beneath 
the hand that held the glass. 

“Bobe,” said he, u you see I am Richard Hanford. You 
have the ‘ruffles’ on my wrists, and the company’s money 
in your possession. Now, what are you going to do with 
me ?” 

Without removing his stolid stare from the glass Bridger 
replied : 

“Well, Hanford, although you richly merit punishment, 
the officers of the company, out of regard for your heart- 
broken mother, have resolved to find you a situation else- 
where, and try you again. ” 

The Scotch detective would have continued his experi- 
ment with the enforced sleeper further had not the vehicle 
at that moment pulled up in front of Millbank prison. 

As his eyes fell on the gloomy walls the errand that called 
him thither flashed vividly to his mind. 

Removing the glass with his left hand, he grasped 
Bridger’ s hand with his right, and gave it a sudden jerk. 

“Ho, there, Bobe ! Wake up !” he cried. 

Bridger started up wildly as if in terror, and, plunging 
suddenly forward, brought up against the front portion of 
the cab, dragging Fandon from his seat. 

“Wake up, Bobe, wake up!” shouted the Scotch detec- 
tive, wincing under the steel-like clasp of Bridger ’s hand 
on his. 

“ Oh, I see it all !” exclaimed Bridger, as the situation 
dawned with his returning faculties. 

Then dropping to a sitting posture on the cab’s front 
seat, he rubbed his eyes and smiled. 

“ The glass was too much for you, Bobe. There's no mis- 
take, you were either asleep — or mesmerized.” 

“ I feel as if I had been. ” 

“I made you believe I was Richard Hanford, and you 
informed me what you proposed doing with me.” 

“Bid, eh?” 

“ Have you no recollection of it ?” 

“ All that I recollect is, that when I awoke I was pos- 
sessed of the idea that I was a garroter. My hands seemed 
in pillory, my back bare, and I about to be flogged. ” 

“ Then here between ourselves, Bobe, we have another in- 
stance of the telegraphing of thought from brain to brain , 
for when I jerked your hand to wake you I was thinking 
intently of a garroter whom I arrested a fortnight since, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


19 


and who is to be flogged this very hour in the jail within. 
In fact, I fear we may be too late for the flogging, and I 
would not miss this particular execution for the world. 
Did you ever see a culprit flogged, Bobe ?” 
u Never.” 

“Well, jump off with me. Come.” 


CHAPTER III. 

’’SEE-REE-GO ! MASTER FANDON, SEE-REE-GO !“ 

Springing as he spoke from the vehicle, the Scotch detec- 
tive led the way up the stone steps and into the corridor of 
the prison, Bridger following at his elbow. 

Through the hall- way, and back through grated door- 
ways, which obedient turnkeys opened, Fandon conducted 
his companion to the gloomy jail-yard. 

The walls of the prison inclosed it upon all sides, and 
from their grated windows peered upon the scene beneath 
a horde of eager, vicious faces. 

An upright beam crossed by a frame, in which were pil- 
loried a culprit’s hands, stood at the yard’s center. 

The victim was a giant in frame, tall, broad-shouldered, 
deep-chested, sinewy — a man in the prime of his years and 
strength. 

His brawny body was stripped bare to the waist. 

A score of solemn-visaged keepers stood guard near, 
while a burly keeper wielded the ugly ‘ cat. ’ 

Already nine of the twenty lashes had fallen. 

A hundred purple welts meshed the sufferer’s back, and 
attested the severity of his punishment, while where the 
ridges crossed, the bruised, black blood had burst forth 
and stood in heavy drops upon the skin.. 

The tortured flesh seemed fairly to creep upon the man’s 
bones. 

His forehead was pressed violently forward against the 
cross-beam, as if he strove, by self-inflicted pain, to offset 
the torture he endured. 

The sturdy executioner calmly, determinedly, with all 
his strength, and with the regularity of a machine, applied 
the whip. 

As the tenth stroke fell the frenzied victim suddenly 
threw back his head. 

Its covering of sandy hair was closely clipped. 

In size it was small and appeared utterly out of propor- 
tion upon the man’s gigantic frame. 


20 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


The forehead was receding, the mouth huge, the lips 
large, the chin massive, the nostrils wide, the nose flat, the 
eyes wild, staring, and full. 

Without doubt they were the head and features of an 
idiot. 

The expression of the distorted, idiotic face was so horri- 
ble that Bridger, with a sickening feeling, averted his 
glance, while a manly tear dimmed the eye of the Scotch 
detective. 

Fixing his eyes in a vacant stare upon the wall at his 
rear the poor idiot cried out, shrilly, in the supreme agony 
of the instant : 

“ See-ree-go ! ’e ! ’e ! ’e ! See-ree go !” 

It was not the cry of a human being, but that of a wild 
beast stricken down by the hunter’s dart. 

As the startling cry rang through the corridors of the 
prison a deep toned muttering of condemnation came in re- 
sponse from the convicts at the windows. 

The idiot, with a quick movement, dashed his head 
violently forward against the crossbeam. 

The executioner had drawn the u cat” to give the eleventh 
stroke when his eye met the eye of the Scotch detective. 

The rabble at the windows were quick to perceive that 
Fandon had given the burly keeper the “ office” to lighten 
up his blows. 

The stroke descended apparently with its usual force, but 
the cat’s lashes struck the bruised and benumbed back of 
the wretched man so gently that he barely felt them. 

A loud cheer rang out in recognition of Fandon’ s act 
from the felons above. 

Perceiving instinctively that a friend was nigh the idiot 
again threw back his head and glanced about in search of 
the one whose influence had eased his torture. 

When his eyes rested upon Fandon his lips parted in a 
broad smile, and his features assumed a look of servile 
adoration, such as the dog bestows upon his master. 

He did not remove his glance, nor notice the nine mock- 
earnest blows white they descended. 

When the twenty lashes had been given, the culprit 
loosed from pillory, and his blue woolen shirt adjusted to 
place, the Scotch detective stepped forward and took his 
hand. 

“I did all I could for you, Billy,” said he, “both before 
the beak and here. Now, be a good lad, and do what they 
ask of you in prison, and I’ll do what I can to shorten 
your term.” 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


21 


Tli9 idiot’s features beamed in delight, and clasping Fan- 
don’s hand warmly, he said : 

44 See-ree-go ! Master Fandon, see-ree-go !” 

The utterance was now quaint and musical, and ex- 
pressed heartfelt gratitude as clearly as an orator would 
have done in words of meaning. 

As the keepers led him away Silly Billy’s eyes contin- 
ued to rest upon his benefactor, and as he passed from 
sight under the arched door- way leading to the cells within, 
his voice rang out once more, cheerily, and as clear as a 
bugle call : 

44 See-ree-go ! Master Fandon, see-ree-go !” 


CHAPTER IV. 

44 A PLUNGER NIPPED IN THE BUD.” 

44 It was an outrage on justice to whip that poor addle- 
pate,” said Fandon, as he and Bridger re-entered the cab 
and drove off. * 4 The magistrate who inflicted that punish- 
ment on an idiot should be flogged himself. ” 

44 It was the most horrible sight I ever beheld,” con- 
curred Bridger. 44 So long as I live that shrill, despairing 
cry will conjure itself to my ears, and that tortured, idiotic 
face will be pictured upon my brain. ” 

44 And then, Bobe,” continued the Scotch detective, 
44 aside from my sympathy at this wrong done Billy, I have 
the deepest interest in him — for he is a central figure in 
one of those mysterious dreams I told you of. True, it is 
at best only a dream, but I have dreamed it a hundred 
times, over and over again. I see in it a beautiful girl 
who, hand in hand with 4 Silly’ Billy, seems to be wander- 
ing in a rivulet of blood, upon which float thousands of 
gold coins. What the portent is I cannot say, but I firmly 
believe that my future is encoupled with that of yonder 
poor idiot in some deep mystery yet to be unearthed. ” 

An hour later the cab drew to a stand among the throng 
of vehicles at? the Epsom Downs’ race-course. 

Alighting upon the grass, the Scotch detective and 
Bridger entered the 44 Bird-cage,” or saddling paddock. 

Their eyes soon rested upon the foolish young man they 
sought. 

Strutting amid the noisy 44 swells” who surrounded the 
book-makers, note-book and pencil in hand, industriously 
sporting a fashionable eye-glass, clad in the most showy 
manner, and giving himself the airs of a crack-brained lord, 


22 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


Richard Hanford was by all odds the most important-ap- 
pearing individual of his years on the course. 

A jockey wearing a scarlet cap and green shirt, at that 
moment dashed by upon a fine chestnut horse which he was 
warming up for the coming race. 

Richard thought he saw a chance for profitable specula- 
tion in the flying heels of the chestnut, and stepped grandly 
toward a book-maker, intending to wager a few odd pounds 
of the raliroad company’s money. 

“I say now, ye know,” quoth Richard, crowding the 
cockney drawl to its fullest, “ what odds are you laying 
against the chestnut just by ?” 

“Twenty to one, sir,” returned the gambler. 

At those figyahs I shall lay you, aw, let me see — ” 

“Don’t bet your money on the bob-tail nag, young man,” 
quoth Fandon, touching Richard upon the shoulder. “ Come 
with me and I will introduce you to the winning horse. ” 

“ Sir !” exclaimed Richard, starting back in astonishment 
and eying Fandon in a highly aristocratic manner through 
his eye-glass. “Ya-as, let me understand, aw, ye know 
— you are a tout-taw, I presume ?” 

The Scotch detective threw back the fold of his coat, and 
tapping hjs golden badge gently, said, with a wink : 

“Yes, Richard, I am a touter of this class. The fact is, 
Richard, the folks in America have suddenly found that 
they cannot exist without you. And I am sure your 
mamma would say you were a real naughty boy did she 
know that you were betting the money you took from the 
raliroad company’s safe on horses.” 

Never did a dashing “plunger” wilt more suddenly. 

Richard Hanford’s airs vanished on the instant. 

His face became deathly pale, his eyes started from his 
head, his eye-glass dropped from its place, his tally-book 
fell from his hands, and his knees smote violently together. 

“ Oh, dear, how you — you frighten me !” he stammered. 
“ I assure you, sir, you are mistaken in the man. I did not 
do it. I am Emanuel Picard.” 

“No, no, Hanford. Up and up now,” quoth Bridger, 
stepping forward and trying to look serious. 

“ Conductor Bridger ! Save me, oh, save me !” shrieked 
the terrified youth, recognizing Bridger, and extending his 
trembling hands imploringly toward him. 

“Iam not Conductor Bridger,” returned Bob, sternly. 
’Tis true I have in times past acted as conductor that I 
might get the gauge of the company’s rogues. But little did 
I then dream that you, Richard Hanford, would be the 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


23 


first to fall thus into the awful clutches of the law. How 
terrible ! You are now destined, I fear, to pass the few re- 
maining days of your guilty visit to England in an English 
dungeon, and ultimately to be taken thence from whence 
you came to stand your trial — and may the august powers 
have mercy upon you !” 

u Alas ! yes. So young ! So handsome, too !” sighed 
Fandon, gloomily, and he snapped a pair of steel “ ruffles” 
on Hanford’s wrists. 

When he felt the cold manacles clasp his flesh, and his 
ear caught the rattle of the chain between them, Hanford 
broke down completely. 

The abject terror of the captured embezzler was pitiful to 
behold, nor could he find hope of lenity in the impassive 
eyes of his captors. 

They had determined to give the wretched young man a 
fright which he would not soon forget, and, utterly regard- 
less of his tears and prayers, they run him along amid the 
jeering throng, and slamming him into the cab, drove off 
with him. 

The two detectives soon had in their possession all that 
remained of the railroad company’s sixty thousand dollars. 

The funds recovered were equal to forty-five thousand 
dollars in American money, aside from which were sundry 
rare diamonds, and jewels, and a valuable gold watch, 
which the foolish young man had bought. 

The case was complete at the hour the Scotch detective 
had named, and at four P M. Bridger slipped into his hand 
a one hundred pound Bank of England note. 

That same night, bidding Fandon a kind adieu, Bridger 
departed by rail from London, in charge of the captured 
clerk, and the recovered valuables, and intent on catching 
a steamer due to sail on the morrow from Liverpool. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 

Notwithstanding the best efforts of the railway officials 
the story of Richard Hanford’s embezzlement and flight 
gained publicity, and when Bridger returned from Eng- 
land in charge of the penitent young man and the recovered 
money it was to find himself lauded in the papers as one of 
America’s most skilled detectives. 

To Bridger’s credit be it said his talents enabled him to 


24 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


keep pace with the prominence he had thus cheaply at- 
tained. 

He received a dozen letters in as many days bidding for 
his services, and at length accepted a position under the 
Government. 

Carefully studying the ways of the criminal classes and 
the methods of the best detective officers, executing every 
commission given in his charge with intelligence and 
alacrity, he rapidly advanced to a front rank in his adopted 
profession. 

When he had been two years in the service of the govern- 
ment an incident occurred, ever after which he became 
the department’s first choice for any case requiring thor- 
ough skill and reckless daring. 

A gang of outlaws were engaged in illegal traffic, de- 
frauding the Government of revenue, near St. Louis. 

They had effectually eluded several tried officers who 
had been sent to work up the case against them, and had 
at length murdered a Government detective in cold blood. 

The marshal of the district, as a last resort, had laid the 
case before the Secretary of the Treasury at Washington. 

That gentleman was in a quandary what move to make 
in the matter, when an old, gray-headed employee of the 
office suddenly suggested : 

“ I tell you, Mr. Secretary, there’s only one thing to do 
about it. ” 

“And what’s that?” demanded the Secretary. 

“Send ‘Old’ Bridger out there.” 

Acting on the old timer’s suggestion, the Secretary sent 
for Bridger, and was greatly surprised to see in him a tall, 
handsome, keen eyed young man of twenty-five. 

However, he dispatched Bridger to the aid of the district 
marshal in Missouri. 

A fortnight later his attention was again called to Bridger 
by the receipt of a report which the detective had been in- 
structed to forward when anything definite had been ac- 
complished. 

Reading it over, he called the old employee to his side, 
and said : 

“By the way, why did you in speaking of Detective 
Bridger, the other day, call him ‘Old’ Bridger? The officer 
is quite young.” 

“Well,” responded the old man, “I’ve watched the 
doings of every one of these secret service men that have 
acted for this department for many years back, and I have 
never known one of all the lot to succeed so uniformly in 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


25 


all lie has been given to do as Bridger has done. There’s 
no mistake about it. Bridger’ s a war-horse. So I call him 
‘Old’ Bridger, something after the way folks call death 
‘Old’ Death. If either of them gets on the trail of a man 
he’d better throw up the sponge.” 

“It would seem so,” returned the secretary, amused at 
the old man’s explanation. “ Here is his report on the Mis- 
souri case : ‘ Have secured ample evidence to convict the 
four men suspected. Was ably aided by the marshal of 
the district The men are in prison.’ ” 

From that time on Bridger was kept on the go from one 
end of the country to the other, and became the hero of 
many desperate encounters and skillful and daring arrests. 

In the fall of the year ’73 he had barely ended working 
up a case of fraud connected with the navy-yard at Mare 
Island, California, when he received instructions to pro- 
ceed without delay to New York. 

The nature of the New York case was smuggling, and as 
it involved several prominent firms now in business, I will 
not give the particulars. 

However, as Bridger journeyed eastward he stopped off 
at the headquarters of the railway company under whose 
employ he had acted as conductor. 

It was evening when he entered the company’s offices, 
and he found the superintendent and the general manager 
in consultation. 

The superintendent explained to Bridger that General 
Grant was expected to arrive some time during the night 
on a special train, and that it was to proceed eastward over 
the line to Kane Station, to which point the illustrious 
passenger journeyed on a visit to his old friend, General 
Kane. 

Owing to an uncertainty regarding the time of the spec- 
ial’s arrival, no definite schedule could be arranged for it, 
and it would have to be “ wild-catted” over the road, re- 
quiring a skillful conductor. 

For reasons which the superintendent did not care to 
name, he did not wish to take his conductors from their 
regular runs, and he asked Bridger to run the train through. 

Glad to have command of a train on the old route for a 
few hours’ run, as a reminder of old times, he accepted the 
officer’s offer. 

Shortly after midnight the train glided in upon the con- 
necting line. 

It consisted of two palace sleeping-cars, a baggage-car, 
and engine. 


26 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


When the engine, baggage-car, and baggage had been 
changed, Bridger, who had carefully mapped his run upon 
the time-table given him at the office, informed the en- 
gineer what he was to do, and gave the signal to go. 

On entering the first sleeping-coach of the running train 
an unexpected surprise awaited Bridger. 

Dan Colgate, his fellow train-man on the nights of the 
occurrence of the night express mystery, had charge of the 
two sleeping-cars. 

After a warm exchange of greetings, the two young men 
dropped into a seat in a vacant state-room of the car, and 
began to compare notes — Bridger mentally vowing that he 
w^ould touch no sleeping passenger that night at all events. 

Dan Colgate imparted the information that General and 
Mrs. Grant, accompanied by two servants, occupied the 
rear car, while sleeping in the car in which they sat were 
five reporters, the ticket-agent of Millford station, and a 
friend of the last-named gentleman. 

The ticket-agent and his friend had been permitted to 
ride from Cleveland at the agent’s request. 

The conversation then turned, among other topics, to the 
night express mystery of three years before. 

The fate of the German, the raftman, and the other pas- 
senger, and how mysteriously they had met their deaths, 
was talked over from beginning to end. 

In the connection Bridger narrated his experience in 
London, spoke of the East Indian necromantic glass, and 
of the strange forewarnings of the Scotch detective’s 
dreams. 

It was nearing daybreak, but still night, when the swift- 
running train passed Maysville station. 

A strange idea came into Bridger ’s brain that he would 
step out upon the dark platform and look, as the train 
swept by, at the spot where the two passengers had plunged 
to their deaths, as if lured to the deed by the touch of his 
hand. 

The night was cloudy and not a star overhead. 

The sparks amid the lurid column of smoke overhead but 
dimly lit the dark landscape on either side of the swaying 
train. 

As the fatal spot derw near, seizing the iron brakewheel, 
Bridger leaned forth in the rush of air at the side of the 
train, and held low his lamp that he might see it. 

He imagined, in his mind’s eye, a man springing from 
where he stood at that speed, and a strange feeling of 
superstition possessed him as he did so. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


27 


The spot where the two passengers had met their deaths 
had been marked by a huge white stone, and as the train 
shot by it, Brigder turned to enter the car-door. 

As the rays of his lamp fell upon the glass in the door 
he perceived the face of a man peering through it. 

The lights were out save Dan Colgate’s lamp in the 
sleeper, and, in the rays of Bridger’s lamp, the face seemed 
pale and livid as that of one dead. 

A cold shiver ran through his nerves, for he was assured 
that the features were familiar to him. 

Might it be that at this fatal spot another mystery like 
that of the Corsican brother, had arisen to confront him ? 

He lifted his light that he might be sure. There could be 
no mistake. 

It was the face of Roe Fandon, the Scotch detective. 


CHAPTER VI. 

PINKERTON’S SPOTTERS. 

“ Bah ! whether it be Roe Fandon dead or Roe Fandon 
living I want to see him just the same,” muttered Bridger, 
and placing his hand upon the door-knob, he entered the car. 

Th^ Scotch detective, and not his ghost, stepped back 
from the door as it opened. 

He had arisen from his bunk and approached the end of 
the car with somewhat of the same intent that had im- 
pelled Bridger to venture without. 

When he perceived Bridger moving about upon the dark 
platforms at the very spot where had occurred the night 
express mystery, he had likewise believed himself either 
dreaming or confronting his friend’s ghost. 

Bridger had supposed that Fandon was beyond the 
ocean, and doing duty in London. 

And the Scotch detective had been reliably informed that 
Bridger was in California, doing secret service work for 
the Government. 

The lamp that Bridger carried was one of the new-style 
lamps made at Rochester for conductors’ use. 

The upper half of its globe was of green glass, casting a 
ghastly hue upon the most healthful face on which the rays 
penetrating it chanced to fall. 

Bridger had never used such a lamp before. 

Under such circumstances it was but little wonder that 
the two detectives were sorely puzzled at thus meeting. 

Within the car each glared at the other, and invplun- 


28 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


tarily reached forth his right hand as if to assure himself 
that the form confronting him was an apparition or body of 
flesh and blood. 

Becoming mutually convinced that the latter was the 
case their hands clasped in warm greeting. 

“ Hello, Bobe ! What in the name of Uncle Sam brought 
you here to-night ?” 

u Roe Fandon, by the Scotland Yard ! And what, in the 
name of all that’s queer are you doing on this train?” 

Thus both exclaimed at a breath. 

“Uncle Sam's business.” 

“Scotland Yard work.” 

They answered together. 

“I took you for a ghost,” quoth Fandon. 

“And I thought you one. By Jove, you look as pale as 
one. ” 

And Bridger held up his lamp as he spoke. 

“ And so do you. ” 

“But I never felt better in my life.” 

“Nor I.” 

“It’s only the glare of that fancy green lamp,” suggested 
Dan Colgate. 

“Come here — I want to talk to you,” said Bridger, and 
he led the Scotch detective to the state-room just vacated 
by Dan Colgate. 

“Now give an account of yourself,” demanded Bridger, 
as the twain sat down. 

“ I’ll hear what brought you here first.” 

“ Briefly, then — one week since, I received orders in San 
Francisco to repair at once to New York, there to look up 
a case of smuggling which may occupy a month of my 
time. I stopped off on my way to see my old superintend 
ent, and he requested me to run this special down, as he 
did not wish to take any of his conductors from the regu- 
lar runs, for reasons he did not care to name. To accom- 
modate him I am taking the train through. Now, it’s your 
turn. Go on.” 

“Well, then, Bobe, I represented the reasons why the 
superintendent did not wish to take his conductors from 
their regular runs. ” 

“You don’t mean to say that you are — ” 

“ ‘Spotting’ the conductors and agents of the line.” 

“ Who is doing it ?” 

“ Pinkerton. ” 

“And so you are working for Pinkerton?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


29 


“ As I have intimated, I have charge of his 1 spotters’ on 
this line. ” 

“I thought you said Scotland Yard work brought you 
here ?” 

u So it did. I am killing two birds with one stone.” 

“ Explain.” 

“You remember ‘Silly’ Billy, the garroter?” 

“ See-ree-go ? How could I forget him ?” 

“ And the dream of the pretty girl waddling at his side 
in a rivulet of blood on which gold coins seemed to float ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, the dream’s out.” 

“ And has proved — ” 

“ True.” 

“And where is ‘Silly’ Billy?” 

“Well, as I that day promised him, I tried my best to get 
his term in prison shortened. ” 

“ And how did you succeed ?” 

“ Badly. He became unruly one day, and tumbled about 
a dozen keepers as if they had been babes. The result was 
that instead of his term being shortened he got a year 
more.” 

“ That was bad for Billy. ” 

“ Ay, but good for my purposes. ” 

“ How so ?” 

“ Some months past I had my attention drawn to a haul 
of odd trinkets which had been made by burglars from a 
pawnbroker’s shop in Petticoat Lane. In looking the stuff 
over I came across a gold locket attached to a lady’s gold 
chain. There was something quaint in the jewel’s appear- 
ance which took my eye. On one side was engraven ‘ Al- 
fonse, ’ and on the other ‘ Alice. ’ What was my astonish- 
ment, Bobe, on opening the locket, to find that it contained 
the miniatures of a dark-eyed young man, and of a oeauti- 
ful, blue-eyed young woman — the very picture of the fair 
maiden of my dream !” 

“ A marvelous tally !” 

“True, Bobe, and the discovery assured me beyond doubt 
that the dream was of the same prophetic nature as that 
by which I tracked down my father’s slayer. I at once 
purchased the trinket from the pawnbroker, and endeav- 
ored to trace it back to its original owner, but at the time 
failed. My only hope then was to fall back upon the infor- 
mation vouchsafed by the dream, and await Billy’s exit 
from prison. 

On the morning he was liberated from Millbank jail I 


30 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


was on hand, made up as a vagrant. He set forth toward 
Chelsea at a rapid gait, and thence struck a country road. 
I followed him carefully, and a fine pedestrian experience 
he gave me. Late in the afternoon he turned suddenly 
from the highway into a by-lane. At its side, among the 
fields, stood a two-story stone cottage and several hundred 
yards to its rear was a large stone mansion, which seemed 
untenanted. A quarter of a mile beyond this was a stone 
stable, and adjoining it a fenced practice track. I took 
the place to be the estate of some sporting gentleman own- 
ing a stable of race-horses. 

u A hundred fields belonging to the estate, and dotted 
here and there with the cottages of sub-farmers, ■ were 
under cultivation in garden truck 

u At the two-story cottage ‘ Silly’ Billy paused, knocked 
upon the door, and entered. A few minutes later I tapped 
upon the same door. It opened, and I beheld before me in 
the door-way a beautiful girl of eighteen, whose features 
were identical with those of the miniature and dream. 

“ As our eyes met I started in astonishment, and so did 
she. The entire appearance of the fair creature, the deep 
blush which suffused her delicately chiseled face, and the 
gentle grace of her movements attested her innocence and 
intelligence. And yet there was something in the startled 
look of her beautiful blue eyes, which plainly said that she 
not only knew that I was a detective, but had expected my 
coming. 

“ ‘ I am traveling and thirsty, ’ said I. ‘ Would you kindly 
give me a glass of water?’ 

u Ere she might respond a rough man, in the garb of a 
farmer, stepped forward, and rudely pushed her aside 
within the room. The man was some sixty years old, but 
strongly built and well-preserved. He wore a short- 
cropped, gray beard, and his features were uninviting and 
surly. Glaring furiously toward me, he pointed back 
toward the highway, and banged the door shut in my face. 

“He had, however, not deprived me of a hasty glance 
within, and I perceived that the family were at their even- 
ing meal. A dark-eyed and not uncomely Irishwoman of 
forty, whom I supposed the farmer’s wife, sat at the table. 
Opposite her, as if he had been one of the family, 4 Silly’ 
Billy had been assigned a plate. He had fallen to with 
such a vengeance, and was so wholly absorbed in the 
viands before him, that he did not notice me. 

“Obedient to the farmer’s inhospitable gesture, I turned 
toward the highway. When I had passed a hundred yards 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


31 


from the cottage I glanced about, and perceived the girl 
peering toward me from a window in the second story, 
whither she had doubtless fled, girl-like, to weep over the 
farmer’s rebuff. Her bright eyes were dimmed with tears, 
and her look as she watched me was both wistful and sad. 
It was evident that she was not a member of the farmer’s 
family, and that a mystery enveloped her life which she 
trusted the future to raise. 

“Suddenly dropping upon her knees, she clasped her 
hands and lifted her fair face, now white as marble, toward 
heaven in an attitude of prayer. 

“ A minute later she glanced toward me again, her bright 
blue eyes seeming to ask if I understood the hope of her 
heart. 

“I threw back the ragged coat I wore, displayed my 
badge, and placed a finger upon my lips enjoining her to 
silence. 

“ She smiled, bowed, placed a finger upon her own fair 
lips, and waving her handkerchief toward me, vanished 
from the window.” 

“ But we are closely approaching Millford station, are we 
not ?” asked the Scotch detective, suddenly pausing in his 
narrative, and glancing from the car window, through 
which the light of dawning day now poured. 

“Five miles yet,” returned Bridger. 

“Well, I must awake Simonton, the Millford ticket 
agent, and leave you there, Bobe. But fail not to com- 
municate with me through Pinkerton’s New York agency, 
and look for letters from me. 

“You see,” continued Fandon, in a whisper, “I have been 
on a speculative, theatrical ‘ piping’ trip with Agent Simon- 
ton to Cleveland. He has been selling tickets twice and 
thrice over and ‘ whacking-up’ with the conductors. Feel- 
ing rich, the idea has entered their heads to start a variety 
theater in the oil regions. To them I am Sam Josalyn, a 
person understanding well the management of such a 
show, and the visit to Cleveland was with the view of ar- 
ranging the purchase of the seats and scenery of a defunct 
theater there.” 

“I understand,” returned Bridger. “But you can rest 
easy regarding the agent, for we must take the side track 
a mile this side of Millford to let the West-bound express 
pass, and I will see that Simonton is up in time. ” 

He then called to Dan Colgate, and after bidding him 
arouse the sleeping agent, turned to hear the continuation 
of the Scotch detective’s story. 


32 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“I returned that night to London,” continued Fandon. 
“ I then followed up the case from day to day until I had 
fully established the girl’s identity, and unearthed the fact 
of a dark and bloody crime, which, though committed 
seventeen years before, had never been suspected. I placed 
the case as it now stood before the inspector of Scotland 
Yard, and he at once dispatched me, with a squad of offi- 
cers at my back, and ordered the arrest of every person 
found in the farmer’s cottage. But we were doomed to 
disappointment, for we found the cottage empty and de- 
serted. I traced the parties ‘wanted’ to Liverpool, and 
thence to America. 

“When I arrived in New York I sought the Pinkerton 
agency, knowing that the Pinkerton detective system em- 
braced the entire land. On exhibiting the miniature, one 
of the detectives present assured me that he had beheld the 
fair face of the lady * wanted’ a week previous. He had 
barely returned in ill health, from charge of the ‘ gang of 
spotters’ at work on this road, and was confident that he 
had seen the girl riding in the cars. Where she had gotten 
on or off he failed to remember, but he believed that she 
was living somewhere upon the line. As the agency was 
working ail its men, the manager, who had been fairly im- 
pressed by the letter of introduction I carried, proffered me 
charge of the ‘ gang of spotters’ here at work. And per- 
ceiving that I could kill two birds with one stone, here I 
am. ” 

At this moment Simonton, the Millford ticket-agent, en- 
tered the state-room. 

He was greatly surprised to find Bridger again enacting 
the role of conductor upon the line, and while he extended 
his greetings the train slowed up for the Millford switch. 

Bridger jumped off to open the switch, and as the train 
pulled in upon the siding to await the passage of the ex- 
press, the Scotch detective and the agent dropped from it 
to keep him company. 

It was now broad day. 

The sun had risen above the eastward mountain tops, 
and the songs of birds and the odor of new-mown hay came 
borne upon the balmy morning air from the dew-sparkled 
grasses that covered the green fields adjacent. 

General Grant had left his bed, and taking advantage of 
the train’s stop, and lured by the bright scene without, 
stepped forth upon the special’s rear platform. 

The three men at the switch lifted their hats to the dis- 
tinguished soldier, and he returned their salute. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


33 


Soon after the heavy express train came puffing along. 

Every one on board learned that it was here to pass the 
special, and from every window and platform train-men 
and passengers peered forth, anxious to catch a glimpse of 
the famous general. 

To accommodate the general desire, the engineer of the 
express had slacked down to a fifteen mile-an-hour gait. 

When the watchers espied the general, standing on the 
platform, hats and handkerchiefs waved busily, and cheer 
after cheer rent the air. 

As the train rolled by the switch-beam a second series of 
yells started up from the train-men in recognition of 
Bridger’s sudden reappearance in his old role. 

While Bridger bowed in acknowledgment a young lady 
at one of the car windows suddenly drew aside her vail, 
exposing a face of radiant beauty. 

Her bright blue eyes, with the startled expression of 
those of the wild fawn, darted a glance of recognition upon 
Fandon. 

The Scotch detective made a sudden spring forward as if 
to board the train. 

It was now speeding past at a rate too swift for any one 
to do so in safety. 

Bridger dashed forward and grasped Fandon just as he 
was on the point of making a leap to catch the car, and the 
train sped on without him. 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ MURDER ! HELP ! POLICE !” 

The two detectives were tongue-tied in the agent’s pres- 
ence, but Bridger perceived that the Scotch detective had 
suffered a grievous disappointment in being unable to 
board the express. 

At Mill ford station the agent and Fandon bade Bridger 
adieu, and the special pursued its way. 

Landing General Grant and party safely at Kane station, 
Bridger departed upon the next east-bound train for New 
York. 

Arriving there he at once set to work on the smuggling 
case. 

After working on the case for a week he found it con- 
venient to take rooms in a house on Bond street. 

One afternoon, a fortnight later, he penned proofs in 


34 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


detail, thoroughly compromising two prominent business 
houses. 

At eight that even'ng he returned to his rooms bearing 
a large envelope, which he had procured to inclose his re- 
port to Washington. 

As he ascended the stair-way from the street he heard 
voices in the dark nook at the rear hall-way of the second 
floor. 

He turned about, but seeing no one, continued above. 

Entering his apartments he placed his report in the en- 
velope, sealed, and addressed it. 

Turning low the gas, he again descended toward the 
street. 

In the rays of a lamp which dimly lit the stair- way at 
the second floor he came squarely upon a tall, gray-haired 
gentleman. 

He was gazing, through his gold -rimmed eye-glasses, 
upon the walls in the hall-way. 

As soon as he heard Bridger’s footsteps he turned toward 
him. 

“Well, Bobe, you are a fine duck,” said he. 

44 So, so !” exclaimed Bridger, in surprise, and the two 
detectives clasped hands. 

44 Didn’t you promise to communicate through the Pinker- 
ton agency?” 

44 And this night, Fandon, I would have done so — but for 
the past three weeks I have been so — ” 

“Say nothing,” interrupted the Scotch detective, perceiv- 
ing that the landlady was intently listening near. 

44 Where are you going with the envelope ?” 

44 To the post-office.” 

44 I’ll walk with you.” 

And the two detectives descended the stair-way. 

44 I’ve been hunting New York over for you, Bobe, for the 
past week,” continued the Scotch detective as they turned 
in the dark street toward Broadway. 

“And how came you to find my rooms?” 

44 Stumbled on them, of course. I had read so much years 
ago about the famous murder case that happened in that 
house, that, chancing past, I thought I would drop in and 
take a look at the surroundings.” 

44 What famous murder case ?” 

44 The case that transpired in the house where you are 
rooming. ” 

“I never heard anything about it.” 

“What ! never heard of the Burdell murder?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


35 


“And do you want to say that the Burdell murder hap- 
pened in the house we have just left?” 

“ Certainly, in the front corner on the second floor. The 
landlady but a moment since showed me the apartment. ” 

“Well, that’s news to me. I knew that it occurred on 
this street, but I had forgotten the number of the house. 
But that’s neither here nor there. How about your own 
murder case ? What did your ‘ spotting’ amount to on the 
road ? Did you find that girl ? And what are you hanging 
out in New York, disguised as a good old parson, for?” 

“To answer you somewhat in order, Bobe, Pinkerton’s 
‘spotters’ made out a ‘dead’ case against the conductors of 
the line. For a test Conductor Vandenker was indicted 
and tried for embezzlement. We clearly proved that on 
certain specified days he had taken from eighty dollars up- 
ward, which he had not turned into the company’s treas- 
ury. His fellow conductors, knowing that his conviction 
or acquittal was equivalent to the same in their cases, 
clubbed together and employed a shrewd lawyer to defend 
him. 

This lawyer appealed to the prejudice of the jury, al- 
ready naturally strong against the railway company. 
Vandenker, he said, was a gentleman who had long resided 
in their midst. He had always paid his hills — owed no 
man a dollar. The first citizens of their city had intrusted 
to his care their journeying daughters and wives. 

Against this gentleman’s plea of ‘not guilty’ was ar- 
rayed the flimsy oaths of detectives, born and bred in 
metropolitan dens of crime. What did the jury think of 
any man who would spy upon another’s actions for pay? 
If this honorable gentleman was convicted Pinkerton and 
his ‘ spotters’ would be paid a large amount of money by 
the railway company. Should jail-birds’ oaths swear an 
honest citizen to a felon’s cell, and win this base gold? Or 
should good, honest John Vandenker breathe the honest 
air of Pennsylvania in freedom? The jury said that John 
should do so — and thus fell the company’s case against its 
employees. 

“Good enough for that,” quoth Bridger. “For I must 
confess that I’m content the boys got off. And now, how 
about the girl ?” 

“She is an angel, Bobe.” 

“Then you found her?” 

“Found her ! I should say so ! We are engaged to be 
married,” 


36 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


‘‘Quick work ! Then, I suppose, you have cleared up the 
Scotland Yard murder case?” 

“Cleared it up as clear as day.” 

“And why then are you disguised?” 

“I am hiding, Bobe, a fugitive from justice.” 

“A fugitive from justice?” 

“Yes.” 

“On what charge?” 

“Murder.” 

‘ ‘ Murder ?” 

“Yes, murder. But I am as innocent of the crime, Bobe, 
as you are of murdering those two men who sprang to 
their deaths at your touch. ” 

“How did the deed occur?” 

“In as mysterious a manner as the deaths of your pas- 
sengers occurred. And now, Bobe, if you are my friend, I 
claim your aid. For never did a detective require the as- 
sistance of a brother sleuth-hound more than I require 
yours at this moment. Can I rely upon you ?” 

“Certainly. What’s to be done ?” 

“The first thing to be done is to get hold of ‘Silly’ Billy, 
the garroter. ” 

“Where is he?” 

The two detectives had turned down Broadway on their 
way to the post-office. 

The night was dark, a heavy fog hung over the city, ren- 
dering the street-lamps barely visible at a little distance, 
and few people were upon the streets. 

Suddenly, and ere the Scotch detective could make an- 
swer, from a cross street near the St. Nicholas Hotel, 
sounded the cry : 

“Murder! Help! Police!” 

The two detectives hastened forward at all speed toward 
the scene of the disorder. 

A foot-pad was in the act of robbing an elderly gentle- 
man. 

The powerful thief had pinned the old man’s hands be- 
hind him in a vise-like clutch of his own left hand, and 
seizing his victim’s throat in his brawny right, had bent 
his body helplessly backward. 

A few moments sufficed to render the old man limp and 
insensible. 

In an instant more the highwayman had secured his vic- 
tim’s pocket-book, and flinging the barely breathing body 
of the old man on the pavement turned to fly with his 
plunder. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


37 


As he did so the two detectives rushed upon him. 

Bridger’s hand clutched the burly villain’s coat, when, 
as he turned about, the light from the street-lamp nearly 
fell upon his face. 

The two detectives recognized him on the instant. It 
was ‘ Silly’ Billy, the crazy giant of Millbank prison. 

“Let him go! For God’s sake, let him go !” said the 
Scotch detective, as the crazy garroter broke Bridger’s 
hold and darted away, followed by a policeman who has- 
tened by in the pursuit. 

“Did you not a moment ago ask me to aid you in taking 
that thief ? What do you mean ?” demanded Bridger, ex- 
citedly, when the officer had passed from hearing. 

“True, Bobe,” returned Fandon, gently. “But it would 
spoil all if he fell into the hands of these blue coats and 
yellow buttons.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FOOT-PAD’S VICTIM. 

The little tiger-like movement of ‘Silly’ Billy, as he 
darted away was in such contrast to the lazy though de- 
termined motion of the policeman, that the Scotch detec- 
tive’s action seemed to be equivalent to letting him go un- 
caught. 

“The “cop’ has no more chance of overhauling the rogue 
than a cow behind a race-horse,” quoth Fandon, glancing 
after the running men. 

u Whether he has or not, ” returned Bridger, ‘ ‘ I must fully 
understand your relations with the crazy giant ere I can 
render you the aid I promised.” 

“You don’t doubt me, Bobe?” 

“No, but I can always work to better advantage when I 
know what I’m driving at.” 

“You shall know all directly, Bobe. But first let us care 
for the rascal’s victim. If possible, I would like to ar- 
range that his complaint may not appear on the police blot- 
ter.” 

As he spoke the Scotch detective turned toward the in- 
sensible form of the ill-used old gentleman lying near. 

The two detectives raised it gently and bore it beneath 
the street lamp. 

The old man’s hair was white as snow% and his features, 
bordered by closely trimmed gray whiskers, were tanned 
as if from long contact beneath a tropical sun. 


38 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


His ©yes were closed, his breathing was feeble and ir- 
regular, nor did he attempt to answer the questions asked 
him by the detectives. 

“He’s had a terrible handling,” said the Scotch detective. 
“Let’s take him to your rooms, Bobe — what say you?” 

“What if he should die there?” 

“I beg of you, Bobe, do as I ask. Have you liquor there ?” 

“Yes.” 

The two detectives lifted the insensible old man, and 
bearing him easily between them, hastened toward 
Bridger’s Bond street rooms. 

The throng of idlers which spring to existence at the 
slightest excitement in New York had on this occasion fol- 
lowed the fortunes of the pursuing policeman and fleeing 
highwayman. 

Surging along at the heels of the officer, they rushed 
through Spring street, toward the Bowery, crying out, 
“Stop thief !” as they ran. 

Those who perceived the detectives bearing along the in- 
sensible victim thought them friends taking home an in- 
ebriate, and passed them by with a glance. 

Reaching the apartments, they placed their burden ten- 
derly upon an easy-chair near the fire that blazed in the 
grate. 

The journey had told severely on the injured old man. 

He had apparently ceased to breathe, and, as the gas- 
light fell upon his pale features, it seemed that the detec- 
tives had a corpse on their hands. 

Bridger hastily produced a bottle of brandy and placed 
it to the old man’s. lips. 

As the liquor poured into his mouth he involuntarily 
swallowed it. 

Its vivifying influence soon told, and the old man again 
breathed irregularly. 

“He is saved !” said the Scotch detective. “And now sit 
we down, Bobe, and I will explain all, so that you will see 
we have acted for the best permitting ‘ Silly’ Billy’s escape. 

“Up to some seventeen years ago,” began Fandon, as 
the two detectives drew their chairs to the fire, “an old 
Frenchman lived upon the estate near London to which I 
followed Billy from Millbank prison. His name was Jean 
Godot ; he was a miserable old miser, and had amassed a 
large fortune as a truck farmer. In his younger days he 
had married an English woman, who had borne him a son, 
whom they christened Alfonse. So meanly did the miser 
treat his wife and child that life became a burden to them. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


39 


and the mother died broken-hearted. The boy naturally 
despised his father as he grew to years of intelligence, and 
one day, becoming suddenly exasperated, accused him of 
causing his mother’s death, and struck the old man down. 
He then fled to London, where he obtained employment as 
groom in a gentleman’s stable. 

“Jean Godot, for a time, dwelt alone in the large stone 
mansion, receiving his meals from the head-farmer’s cot- 
tage near by. This man’s name was Harvey Bolard, and 
it was he who banged the cottage door in my face when I 
had shadowed Billy thither. 

“As the miser grew older he felt the need of some one to 
take care of his collections and accounts, and regretted the 
absence of his son for this reason. 

“However, Harvey Bolard, the head farmer, found a 
young man who presented ample recommendations, and 
Jean Godot employed him at a low salary to do this work. 

“The young man’s name was Pere Videre, and by pa- 
tiently studying to humor the old miser’s whims he soon 
gained his confidence, so that Jean Godot was heard to 
publicly remark that he held his clerk in better regard 
than he had ever done his own son. 

“Now, all the while this Harvey Bolard was no other 
than ‘ Iron’ Mike Drugo, a notorious burglar who had for 
some years disappeared from his old haunts in London, 
and Pere Videre was ‘Jack Drugo,’ son of ‘Iron’ Mike, a 
shrewd pickpocket and sneak-thief known as the ‘ Squealer, ’ 
on account of his strange ‘piccolo’ voice. 

‘ ‘ These persons had shaped their actions and altered their 
appearance to enable them to play, without discovery, the 
honest roles they seemed enacting as the miser’s employees. 

“ Their real aim, as maybe readily conjectured, was to 
put Jean Godot out of the way in a manner not to arouse 
suspicion, and to possess themselves of his wealth. 

“Alfonse Godot, the miser’s runaway son, had mean- 
while become coachman to the gentleman who had em- 
ployed him in London. His employer was a physician pos- 
sessed of ample means, an Irishman, born in Dublin, and, 
as in the nature of his race, was hasty in temper. The man 
had been soured by an unhappy wedded life, and his house 
was kept secluded from society. 

“Dr. Macy possessed but one relative in the world — a 
beautiful girl of nineteen, his daughter, and she was his 
idol and only joy. 

“Alice Macy dearly loved her morose parent, but as a 
maiden buds to womanhood it is only natural that she 


40 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


should consider her heart large enough to encompass the 
most ardent parental affection, and possess a surplus to be 
utilized elsewhere. 

“Thrown into little company beyond the inmates of her 
father’s establishment, Alice became attached to handsome 
Alfonse Godot. 

“He confided to her the reason he had sought a home 
among strangers, and intimated that his father must die 
ere many years, and he fall heir to a rich inheritance. 

“When the maiden learned that Alfonse was a rich 
man’s son, driven from home, and by no means an ordi- 
nary coachman, the romance of the situation suited her girl- 
ish fancy so well that Alfonse and Alice became lovers 
sworn. 

“By some accident Dr. Macy became aware that his 
daughter’s feelings toward Alfonse were not consistent 
with those of a lady toward a coachman, and he dismissed 
Alfonse from his employ. 

“But this did not end the matter. The lovers found 
methods of intercourse, and finally an elopement was 
planned, and they were married. 

u A scandal followed, which so infuriated the testy old 
doctor that, changing his possessions to ready money, he 
departed from England, resolved to tear all love for his 
truant child from his heart, and to leave her to her fate. 

“And my curse on the old brute for it !” interjected the 
Scotch detective, warmly. “I trust a good stiff hurricane 
hurried the ship he sailed in to the bottom of the ocean, 
and that the old scoundrel is there to this moment cooling 
his fiery brain, for, at all events, he has never been heard 
from since.” 

As Fandon spoke the old man seated in the easy-chair 
gave vent to a low moan. 

The two detectives turned hastily toward him. 

His eyes were wide open and staring toward them. 

A moment later they closed, wearily, and the Scotch 
detective, remarking that “the old boy was coming about 
all right,” resumed his story. 


CHAPTER XI. 

“i THANK GOD I WAS ROBBED.” 

“For some eighteen months the newly wedded pair lived 
happily together,” continued the Scotch detective. “By 
that time their small means had vanished, and, thinking 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


41 


that Dr. Macy’s wrath had ample opportunity to spend it- 
self, they resolved to approach him and plead for forgive- 
ness. 

“They returned to find their former home occupied by 
strangers, who did not even know the gentleman they 
sought. 

“The unhappy bride implored her young husband, for the 
sake of the tender babe she bore in her arms, to appeal to 
his father, Jean Godot. 

“Alfonse wrote to his father, begging forgiveness for the 
past and asking that a small remittance be sent him to 
ease his present poverty. 

“The letter was not answered, and only served to hasten 
the gloomy fate which had marked the devoted pair for its 
own. 

“Starvation, or the workhouse, threatened the fated 
lovers. 

“One day as Alfonse, with bleeding heart, looked about 
for some employment to earn bread for his starving wife, 
he met a man who spoke kindly to him, but who was no 
other than Pere Videre, the ‘Squealer.’ 

“He offered to procure Alfonse a situation, and enticed 
him into a liquor store to partake of a social glass. 

“The liquor was drugged, and when poor Alfonse awoke 
to consciousness he found himself out at sea in the forecas- 
tle of an East India bound ship. He had been ‘ shanghaied’ 
on board at the docks, and shipped as a common sailor. 
“Pere Videre had used “ Silly’ Billy as his assistant in thus 
doing away with Alfonse Godot, and afterward Billy was 
given a home in the Bolard cottage. 

“Bolard and Videre well knew the crazy thief’s tempera- 
ment, and that so long as he was well fed and kindly 
treated he would remain quietly at work on the estate, 
while if permitted to tarry in London he might ‘ give away’ 
the enforced shipment of the miser’s son. 

“The twain had also stronger reasons for offering Billy 
a home. 

“In spite of them, however, he would at times take 
offense at Bolard ’s rough ways, and returning to London, 
go at his old tricks. 

“It was during one of these excursions that I arrested 
him for garroting an old sea captain, for which offense he 
was flogged when you were in London, Bobe. ” 

“In the meantime what became of Alice Godot and her 
babe ?” asked Bridger, evidently much interested. 

“The wretched young woman,” continued the Scotch de- 


42 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


tective, “ wandered for days helplessly and starving in the 
streets of London, sleeping at night in the parks, and fear- 
ing that to crown all her woes her young husband had de- 
serted her. 

“Love for the babe at her breast alone prevented the 
wretched creature from welcoming the death that seemed 
imminent. 

“ Thinking that Alfonse had gone to seek his father, she 
set out on foot, weak, starving, and sick, bearing her babe, 
and inquiring her way to the Godot estate. 

“ One night, as the Bolards sat at their evening meal, a 
feeble tap came upon their door. Meg Bolard hastened to 
open it. Alice Godot, sore-footed, worn out, starving, 
dying, fell across the threshold, clasping her babe to her 
breast. 

“ Bolard, muttering a curse upon the hapless intruder, 
seized her roughly, and lifted her to her feet. 

“‘Is this the estate of Jean Godot ?’ she gasped. 

‘“And what if it be ?’ growled Bolard. 

‘“I — I am Alfonse Godot’s wife, and this babe is Annette 
Godot, his — his — ’ 

“ She spoke no more— nor did she ever speak again. 

“Bolard would have hurled her limp form forth into the 
highway, and left the babe to perish as well, had not Meg, 
his wife, with flashing eyes, championed the cause of the 
poor creature dead in her brutal husband’s arms. 

“ ‘ Moind what you be doin’, “Iron” Mike Drugo !’ she 
said. ‘For, by the howly powers, if ye trate the poor dead 
thing with aven disrespect, I'll off to the “beak,” and give 
up both you and yer “ racket”— yis, will I do’t, if I be 
“ twisted” for’t ! For shame, you ugly old brute ! Haven’t 
ye been tellin’ me the son married an Irish gintleman’s 
daughter, and do you think an Irish lady would see the 
loikes of ye, Drugo, mistrate the poor crather’s bones till 
they be laid dacently away in the grave?’ 

“ ‘But the brat — the brat !’ snarled Bolard, glancing upon 
the sleeping babe clasped in the dead woman’s arms. ‘If 
it lives, where is the use of the ‘ racket, ’ Meg— the plan 
that’s to make you a rich lady and me a rich man?’ 

‘“There’s no necissity for anyone knowing av who the 
woman or her child is, Mike. Take her, do you hear me, 
and lay her insoide on me bed. Thin off wid ye in dacence 
and notify the poor-master that a poor, starving beggar- 
woman doied at yer house afore ye could aven give her 
aid.’ 

‘“And what shall I say of the brat, Meg?’ 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


43 


‘“It’s a wee Irish darlint — so it is, and ye nade not men- 
tion it at all. ’ 

“As Meg spoke she took the babe into her arms, and 
kissed it fondly. It opened its blue eyes, and seeing a 
strange face, began to cry. 

“‘Ma — ma — mammal’ the little waif prattled amid its 
tears. 

“ Meg kissed it, fondled it, danced it, talked baby talk to 
it, and soon had it smiling in baby glee. 

u ‘ Yis, ma — ma — mamma it is for ye, me dear little dar- 
lint !’ she said. ‘If ye’ve lost one mamma ye’ve found 
another in Meg Bolard. And I’m goin’ to raise the little 
one for me own, Mike Drugo, and smoke that in your 
poipe, will you !’ 

‘“Do what you will, and be to you, for you’ll do it 

anyhow, ’ muttered Bolard, with a curse, and he bore the 
form of the dead girl within, as Meg had directed, and 
placed it upon the bed. 

“ The poor-master’s men removed the corpse and buried 
it, and a week later it was rumored about that Mrs. Mar- 
garet Bolard had presented her surly husband with an 
infant daughter. 

“Not many months afterward Jean Godot was one day 
found dead in his room in the stone mansion. It was re- 
ported and currently believed that he had been in the act 
of shaving himself, when in a sudden fit of melancholy he 
had cut his throat. The position of the body when found, 
and the bloody razor still grasped in the dead man’s hand, 
pointed to suicide. 

“Upon a table near the body was found a letter ad- 
dressed “To all concerned,” and which read as follows : 

“ ‘ I, Jean Godot, of sound mind, say that I have grown weary of 
life since my wife died, and my son deserted his home. 

“‘Whatever should happen me, and being at this moment better 
disposed to die than to live, I pen these lines as my will : 

“ ‘ I command that my death be published publicly, and that if my 
son, Alfonse Godot, appears and proves that he is my son during 
twenty years subsequent to my death, that all my property, real and 
personal, shall be his to keep and use forever. 

“ ‘I command further that until my son, Alfonse Godot, appears to 
claim my behest, Pere Videre, my son by adoption, shall hold and con- 
trol my estate as my executor, and shall possess, in his own right, all 
revenues therefrom. 

“ ‘And I further command that should my son, Alfonse Godot, fail 
to appear within the twenty years named, that at the end of that time 
all my estate above mentioned shall become the property of Pere 
Videre, my son by adoption, to hold and keep forever.’ 


44 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“This document was dated in due form, and w r as written 
and signed in Jean Godot’s scrawling hand. 

4 4 Its terms and conditions were cunningly arranged and 
natural, and when it was offered in the courts for probate 
as the miser’s will, an order of citation was granted, and 
the Godot estate fell into the hands of Videre and Bolard. 

44 Bolard still remained upon the estate in his position of 
head farmer, while Videre spent his time playing the gen- 
tleman in London, and upon the Continent. 

4 4 So well, indeed, did ‘Iron’ Mike and his worthy son 
work their deep game, and use the great wealth that fell 
from it to them afterward, that as the years rolled by not 
a breath of suspicion was uttered by any one against them. 

“And thus stood matters when the dream of the crazy 
garroter and the beautiful girl wading in a rivulet of blood 
on which seemed floating the many gold coins, became a 
nightly visitor to my pillow, and when I shadowed Billy 
from Millbank prison to meet Annette, Alice Godot’s 
child, in the beautiful girl at the door of the cottage. 

44 On that day when I showed my badge to the girl at the 
up-stairs window, keen eyes were watching me from the 
edge of the curtains in a window below. And thus it came 
that we found the cottage empty when we made the de- 
scent upon it, and that I have followed these people here.” 

“And what have you done here?” asked Bridger. 

44 1 have found proof that Jean Godot was murdered by 
Harvey Bolard, alias ‘Iron’ Mike Drugo, and that Pere 
Videre, alias ‘Jack’ Drugo, was his confederate in the 
crime. ” 

44 And where are these people now ?” 

44 Pere Videre is in England enjoying the Godot estate, 
but held under the eye of Scotland Yard until I can find 
positive proofs warranting his arrest. Bolard is dead and 
in his grave, and Annette, Meg, and 4 Silly’ Billy are se- 
cluded in some den in this great city, 4 Silly’ Billy support- 
ing them by his thefts.” 

The Scotch detective took the locket containing the 
miniatures of Alfonse and Alice Godot from his pocket as 
he spoke, and presenting it for Bridger ’s inspection, added : 

“And now, friend Bobe, since I have shown you my 
reason for permitting the crazy giant’s escape to-night, 
may I claim your assistance in the rescue of this innocent 
girl from the haunts of thieves ?” 

44 As matters stand,” returned Bridger, 44 it is certainly 
for the best that no charge be made against Billy for the 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEB. 45 

robbery of this old man, and you can rely upon me to aid 
you in the rescue of the girl. ” 

“ And as matters stand, I thank God I was robbed this 
night by the thief you call Billy. ” 

Had it been a voice from the grave the two detectives 
could not have been more startled. 

The old man had arisen from the easy-chair, and stood 
peering over Bridger’s shoulder upon the miniature of 
Alice Godot. 

Overcome by his emotions, and still very weak, he fell 
back upon the chair, and added, in a hoarse whisper, as 
the tears coursed down his wan cheeks : 

“I am the Dr. Macy of whom you have spoken.” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE FAIR SMUGGLER. 

“Doctor Macy who dwelt in London?” exclaimed the 
Scotch detective, excitedly, bounding to his feet. 

u Ay,” gasped the old man, “the foolish, headstrong, 
criminal father, who left poor Alice to die a beggar and 
outcast. 

“Tell me,” he added, leaning eagerly forward, “might it 
be possible that Alice yet lives — that she did not die in 
want, as you have said ?” 

“No, no ; she is dead, and died at the Bolard cottage.” 

“ And was buried where ?” 

“In the poor-field.” 

“ Great Heaven ! Are you sure of that ?” 

“ Certainly. I have followed all these clews in England.” 

“ Tell me can her grave be found ?” 

“Readily; its number is 1,248.” 

“ 1,248 ! Great Heaven ! I, wretched man, am her mur- 
derer ! But at least, at least I may give her decent burial. ” 

And wringing his hands in agony, the old man fell back 
upon his chair, weeping bitter tears. 

“Come, my man, this will not do,” said the Scotch de- 
tective, pouring forth and proffering a drink of brandy. 
“ The past is past, and let it be so ; there is much that may 
be done to atone for it in the future.” 

“Ay,” responded Dr. Macy, draining the glass and 
brightening up. “Annette, my daughter’s child, lives, 
and then, too, Annette’s father, Alfonse, still lives.” 


46 DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 

“ Alf onse Godot still lives ?” echoed the Scotch detective, 
in surprise. 

“As surely as that my poor Alice is dead.” 

‘ 1 Have you seen him ?” 

“Yes; have been in his company for months, and his 
story agrees with yours, that he was kidnapped to sea. By 
the way, sir, what is your name and occupation ?” 

“ My name, sir, is Roland Fandon, detective of Scotland 
Yard, detailed to America to find Harvey Bolard, Meg, his 
wife, ‘Silly’ Billy, and Annette, and clear up the Godot 
murder case.” 

“ Then it was of you the inspector in London spoke to 
me a fortnight since ?” 

“I dare say.” 

“He informed me that Annette was in America, and 
bade me communicate with you through the British Minis- 
ter at Washington. But oh, I have been always fortunate 
in misfortune, even as I have been misfortunate when for- 
tune seemed smiling fairest on me. My sole aim in life is 
now wrapped in the well-being of the child Annette. Not 
receiving an answer as I expected from you at Washing- 
ton, I became nervous. In every pretty face I passed upon 
the street I fancied I saw a resemblance to my dear dead 
daughter. It was following a pretty maiden, who glanced 
smilingly toward me, that led me to walk from the steps of 
the hotel to the cross street where I was robbed. Might it 
be that Annette has been trained to decoy men thus into 
the clutches of ‘Silly’ Billy?” 

“No, for she is as pure as an angel.” 

“ Then these coarse people have not dragged her to a 
level in their sin ?” 

“ That they have not.” 

“Thank Heaven ! But you said that she is at this mo- 
ment dwelling in this city among thieves. I pray you make 
haste and tell me the circumstances that have brought her 
to this plight ?” 

The Scotch detective glanced toward Bridger, and the 
two detectives placed their chairs that they might face the 
old doctor. 

“Make haste, I beg of you,” he continued, impatiently, 
perceiving that the Scotch detective paused, as if determin- 
ing in his mind whether it would best suit his ends to pro- 
ceed with his tale. 

“I rest easy, you perceive,” said the old man, “and will 
be much stronger as soon as the doubts and uncertainties 
that perplex my brain may change into a definite hope that 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


47 


I may meet Annette, and behold her mother’s features 
pictured on a living body. Deny me not, therefore, aught 
that you know concerning her, Detective Fandon, for I am 
rich, and will add sums that you have not dreamed of to 
the reward that shall be yours if you aid me to tear remorse 
from my heart for the past, and to possess the care of the 
living.” 

“ The gold coins of the dream begin to float, you per- 
ceive,” said the Scotch detective aside to Bridger. 

“Listen, then,” he added, aloud, addressing the doctor, 
“ and I will tell you of such meetings as I have had with 
Annette. ” 

“ Meetings ! Then you have met her ?” 

“ Yes, that I have, doctor, and right here I may state 
frankly that you are likely to have another case of love on 
your hands which you may not approve.” 

“You don’t mean, sir, that you and the girl are lovers?” 

“ That is precisely what I mean. ” 

“ What ! An aged man like you in love with a young 
girl !” 

“ I am but seven years older than Annette, ” returned the 
Scotch detective pulling the wig from his shapely head, 
and exposing his own glossy black hair. 

The old doctor started in surprise at the detective’s 
speedy transformation from old age to youth, and Fandon 
continued : 

You understand, doctor, detectives are forced to assume 
many characters, and play many roles in the way of busi- 
ness. They have even found it requisite to make love to 
girls and women to obtain desired secrets. ” 

“ And you mean to say that you have thus played upon 
Annette’s affections, sir?” 

“ I certainly did succeed in winning her affections in a 
purely professional manner, but she was so winning, so 
good, so beautiful, so different from all other maidens that 
I had met that I soon found myself drifting far beyond my 
professional balance and original intention. She is now 
my affianced wife, and I have followed to her rescue here 
under an accusation of murder, whereas I might stalk 
forth erect did I not regard her welfare as above my repu- 
tation as a detective. But if you do not interrupt me fur- 
ther I will go on with my story. 

“ Some while after the day, Bobe, we beheld that bright 
face peer from the car window as we stood by the switch, 
I learned from one of the ‘ spotters’ under my charge that 
on several occasions he had noticed a neat, tidy, heavily 


48 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEB. 


vailed little lady get off the train at the busy town of Cory- 
don. By his description I did not doubt it was Annette. I 
instructed him, did he observe her again, to follow her and 
find out where she went. A week later he informed me 
that he had seen her again, and had found that she had 
entered a music teacher’s dwelling, whither she came 
weekly to take lessons upon the piano. 

“ Now it so happens that I play well upon the piano my- 
self, and possess also the mechanical skill to tune pianos. 

“ So, soon as my duties ended upon the railway, I repaired 
to Corydon, and took rooms at the best hotel in the role of 
music agent and piano-tuner. 

“My entire appearance and manner were much more 
those of a gay deceiver, I will admit, than of a poorly paid 
dabbler in music. 

“ I had provided myself with an armful of new music, 
the tools needed for tuning purposes, and had succeeded in 
obtaining the right to sell for several piano and music 
firms. 

“ I was cautious about entering the dwelling where An- 
nette (for it proved to be she) received instruction. 

“ I made many attempts to sell elsewhere, and some re- 
spectable sales, ere I ventured to do so. 

“ Meanwhile I learned that the teacher was Mrs. Bibby, 
a young and fascinating widow, and that she had heard 
that I was about. 

“ At length I called upon her in the way of business. 

“ As a rule, I have always been well received by the 
ladies, and got along remarkably well with the widow, who 
was a sprightly little woman, plump in form, possessed of 
snappish brown eyes, and a wealth of red hair. 

“In fact, after an hour’s stay I left the fair lady’s door 
on almost as good terms as if I had known her for years, 
and received a very pressing invitation to call again. 

“ During several subsequent visits our acquaintanceship 
rapidly ripened, and, in truth, I soon knew pretty nearly 
everything the fair widow did. 

“ I did not question her regarding Annette, but permitted 
her to first refer to her in her description of her several 
pupils. 

“ 4 She is a pretty, blue-eyed girl about whom there seems 
a mystery, ’ she one day remarked, meaning Annette. ‘ Her 
father and mother are coarse, but wealthy, they say, and 
dwell at Garson, a small station twelve miles eastward. 
They are new-comers, and keep a hotel and livery stable, 
and have purchased a number of farms near by. ’ 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


49 


“ 4 1 have seen the young lady on the train several times, ’ 
I ventured to remark. 4 She seems to be perpetually under 
vail, and very shy of strangers, is she not?’ 

44 4 Yes, poor thing,’ said the widow. ‘She is very shy of 
strangers for some reason. In fact, at her own request, I 
have appointed the time for her instruction, so that she 
may meet no one here but myself. Some folks are that 
way, you know. ’ 

44 4 So she calls for her lesson on one particular day each 
week?’ I asked. 

44 Mrs. Bibby colored just a trifle, and looked as if she did 
not wholly approve the interest I took in her fair pupil. 

44 1 was also impressed by her manner that she was about 
to tell me a huge fib. 

44 4 It is really impossible to say, Mr. Josalyn’ (that was my 
name in Corydon) , 4 when Miss Annette may call, or, in- 
deed, if she will call any more at all. Her quarter was up 
yesterday. She plays quite well, and she said that her 
father might possibly permit her to take no more lessons. ’ 

44 1 felt assured that this was untrue, and, fearing that 
the evidently jealous lady might inform Annette at her 
next coming that she could give her no further instruction, 
I changed the subject of conversation, and endeavored, by 
every gallantry possible, to impress upon the lively widow 
that she alone of all her sex possessed my thoughts. 

44 Mrs. Bibby now became very communicative. She in- 
timated that she considered me a very successful agent and 
piano-tuner to keep up my style and dwell at the best hotel 
— perhaps I had some other business as well. 

44 1 assured her to the contrary, and remarked that her 
finely furnished and cozy home spoke well of her success 
in the line of teaching. 

44 4 And I own the furniture, and house, and everything, 
too, ’ she said. 4 Nor is that all. ’ 

44 And she took a bank-note from a writing-desk in the 
corner of the parlor, and showed me that several thousand 
dollars were accredited to her in the bank. 

44 When I expressed delight that her abilities as a musi- 
cal instructor had been so well appreciated by the good 
people of Corydon, she glanced at me with a roguish twin- 
kle in her bright eyes, and said : 

44 4 Fudge ! do you think I drummed all that out of piano* 
keys ?’ 

44 1 suggested that the late Mr. B. had been a most ex* 
cellent and prudent husband if, on departing from this 


50 DETE'CTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 

earth, he had left his charming widow in such comfortable 
circumstances. 

‘“Alas! your conjecture is again wrong, Mr. Josalyn,’ 
quoth the fair widow, with a sigh. ‘My late husband was 
good and kind to me, but very shiftless, and left me not a 
dollar. Ah, me ! Mr. B. was not the kind of man I might 
have loved with my whole soul, nor should have wed. But 
giddy young girls do some foolish things. Ah, me ! ah, 
me !’ 

*■ “ Then suddenly brightening up, and poising her head 

coquettishly aside, she continued : 

“‘No, no, Mr. Josalyn — the truth is I have a secret busi- 
ness which has gained me all. ’ 

“ She then became very confidential, and explained that 
her brother was the chief-engineer on a Havana steamship. 
(I had heard at the hotel that he was an oiler on one of the 
lines, but it was no fault of his sister that he was not 
higher in rank, and perhaps she was mistaken.) He, how- 
ever, smuggled large lots of the finest cigars every trip. 
The captain, mates, and all hands were joined in the trade, 
and the ship always arrived off the heads, at Sandy Hook, 
during the night. Just before the ship came to anchor at 
quarantine the huge bales of cigars, tied in sea-proof sacks 
and rubber cloths, were hurled overboard, and a waiting 
boat in the ship’s wake picked them up. The men in the 
boat conveyed them ashore, and thence to their rendezvous 
in New York. Here her brother boxed his share and for- 
warded them to her in Corydon, and in the oil regions and 
in the towns she rapidly disposed of them at great profit to 
friends. One -third of the net gain she pocketed herself, 
and the remaining money she inclosed to her brother. 
Why, she even furnished the hotel in which I stopped with 
cigars. 

“ Haying given me these points, possibly to impress upon 
my mind that she was a splendid 1 catch’ for a traveling 
young man, she suggested that if I desired to store any of 
the pianos I was selling I could do so at her home. 

. “ In fact, the fair widow did everything but propose out- 
right to marry me, and set me going. 

“ The year not being leap-year perhaps prevented this, 
but certainly never did a neat, lively, lovable little woman 
become so completely smitten with a fellow at such short 
acquaintance, I think. 

“ And all the while, base man, I was revolving in my 
mind a plan to outwit her and meet Annette. 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


51 


44 Having resolved what I would do, I departed from the 
fair widow’s abode with a foul lie upon my lips. 

“‘I am bidding you adieu, Jennie’ (I called her Jennie 
now) , 4 for a whole week, I am sad to say. Business calls 
me to Buffalo, and I leave upon the train to-night. But of 
one thing rest assured — I will provide myself with a pocket 
full of those cigars at the hotel, and, when I am far away, 
every whiff of their fragrant smoke shall remind me of the 
charming smuggler to whom I am indebted for them. ’ 

44 4 And you will call around when you return, Sam?’ 

44 She called me Sam now. 

44 4 Will I? Just as soon as I strike Corydon, if not 
sooner. ’ 

44 4 Now, don’t forget.’ 

44 4 Ah, Jennie, where the sugar is the poor fly must come, 
By-by.’ 

44 And I walked away.” 


CHAPTEK XI. 

LOVE AND MUSIC. 

44 Tom Bowling, the clerk of the hotel in Corydon t con- 
tinued the Scotch detective, 44 was a jovial, good-hearted, 
sensible fellow. 

44 The truth is, he was in love with the Widow Bibby him- 
self. 

44 One of the proprietors of the hotel firm had recently 
died, and Tom required several thousand in cash to buy 

in , but it would be base to say that his love for the 

fair widow did not go further, for it did. 

44 Tom was very well informed regarding the widow’s 
affairs, and was positive that on the very next day An- 
nette’s weekly music lesson transpired. 

44 He knew very well that my advent in Corydon had 
made a decided impression on Mrs. Bibby, but he was not 
in the least jealous. 

44 He knew what I was after, and realized that so soon as 
I had departed from Corydon the fair widow would col- 
lapse and fall upon his manly breast for consolation. 

44 That night I failed to start for Buffalo, and next day, 
when the two P. M. train was due from Garson, I stood 
aside in the Corydon station-house in a position to observe 
the arrivals. 

44 The train glided in on time, and I had the satisfaction 


52 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


of seeing the graceful form of the little maiden I longed to 
meet descend to the platform from the ladies’ car steps. 

“ Looking neither right nor left, she emerged from the 
throng of passengers and hastened past the depot to the 
near by-street. 

“An hour later I sauntered by the widow’s home, and 
heard those peculiar noises which unmistakably denote 
that a young lady is receiving a lesson upon the piano. 

“The evening previous I had received from a New York 
publishing house a new and popular plantation melody, and 
to the amusement of those in the ladies’ parlor at the hotel, 
I had sung and played it over until I could render it very 
creditably. 

“Without ceremony I bounced into the hallway, and 
opened the door of the widow’s parlor directly upon the 
sprightly lady and her fair pupil. 

“ Never in my life did I behold so fair a sight. 

“ It seemed to me as the bright blue eyes of Annette 
Godot turned toward me in a bewildered stare — so much 
fairer than all womankind did she appear to me, that I 
should not have been more astonished had I beheld seated 
at the piano a veritable angel, angel-clad, wings and all. 

“ Perceiving that she turned shyly from my glance with 
a look and manner as wild as that of the forest fawn, I 
bowed, with assumed composure, to the widow. 

“ She had arisen to her feet. 

“And I may say, from her terrified and angry appear- 
ance, she would not have been more astounded nor cha- 
grined if the chief of all that’s bad from his fiery home in 
sulphur flame, had as suddenly entered her presence. 

“‘Why, Sam — that is, Mr. Josalyn,’ she almost shrieked, 

‘ I thought you had gone last night to Buffalo for a week. ’ 

“ ‘ I missed the train, I am sorry — that is, glad — to say, ’ 
I replied. ‘ And receiving last night a new song which all 
New York is singing, I could not resist the temptation to 
bring it to you at once. But I trust I do not interfere with 
your piano exercise? I sincerely beg the young lady’s 
pardon and yours if I have intruded. ’ 

“ Oh, not at all ; so glad you’ve come, ’ quoth the widow, 
and being in politeness bound to introduce her fair pupil, 
she added : 

“‘Miss Bolard, this is Mr. Josalyn, a friend of mine, who 
is acting in Corydon as agent for pianos, music, and musi- 
cal instruments.’ 

“ I feared from the glance she had bestowed upon me 
that day at the switch that the little beauty would recog- 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


53 


nize in me the tramp detective of the Bolard cottage in 
England. 

“ But she did not seem to do so. 

“ She arose, blushing and excited, and bowed to me in 
acknowledgment. 

44 My feelings, as I read her pure heart beaming like a 
priceless mine of gold through her beautiful eyes, X cannot 
describe. 

44 I was charmed. 

44 Here was a young lady as pure of thought and life as 
the snow-drop on the mountain top, and one who had met 
so few gentlemen that she seemed actually embarrassed at 
the introduction. 

41 Dear creature ! she doubtless thought that to me, a 
brusque fellow of the world, she seemed awkward, while, 
in reality, she appeared to me not only as pretty, but pret- 
tier than any picture I had ever beheld — on canvas or 
alive. 

44 1 knew that ere I might become acquainted with her I 
must make her perfectly at ease in my presence, and I pro- 
ceeded to work at once. 

44 4 Now, ladies,’ said I, ‘overlook my rudeness, for I am 
full of music, and you must hear this new melody. ’ 

44 Drawing two easy-chairs near the piano, I grasped the 
widow and sat her down on one, and then placed Annette 
gently upon the other — n:>t, indeed, as if I were a new ac- 
quaintance, but as if the ladies had been my sisters. 

44 1 performed this delicate feat in so polite, albeit assured 
a manner that, far from being offended, both laughed mer- 
rily at my boldness and enthusiasm. 

44 1 noticed, however, that the widow’s laughter died 
down much sooner than the musical mirth of Annette. 

44 Planting myself at the piano, I spread forth the music, 
and played the air over with a touch that astonished the 
fair widow. 

44 4 Why, Sam — that is, Mr. Josalyn — you are quite a per- 
former !’ she exclaimed as I finished. 44 1 never heard you 
play so before. Surely the surroundings to day are very 
agreeable, that your heart is so equal to the task?’ 

44 4 My heart is in music to-day, surely, ’ I said, turning 
toward the widow, 4 and as I have brought the air here ex- 
pressly for you to hear, it is only natural that you would 
pardon, even flatter the execution. But hearken to me 
now, for I am about to sing. ’ 

444 And if ever mortal sang well,’ I added, turning to 


54 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEE. 


blushing Annette on my left, 4 he should do so before the 
audience that I have. ’ 

u Then I sang, and if ever I did sing well (and I do war- 
ble passably), I did so then. 

“When I had ended I turned toward the ladies. 

“ The widow said that I had played and sung well, but 
she did not fancy plantation melodies. 

“‘And what do you think of the song, Miss Annette?’ I 
asked. 

“ ‘ Oh, it is very, very pretty, ’ she said, smiling sweetly, 
and I perceived that she was well over her embarrassment. 

“ ‘ Then as you like the air, and Mrs. Bibby doesn’t, per- 
mit me to present it to you, ’ and I presented the music to 
Annette. 

“ She took it in her little hand, and thanked me, saying 
that she would surely learn to play it. 

“ I perceived, however, that the widow’s eyes glared 
viciously upon her fair pupil, and to divert the ladies I 
turned again to the piano and sang several English songs 
in which I was well up. 

“Annette seemed delighted, but somehow the widow’s 
smiles became staler and staler. 

“ To end the entertainment I took the music sheet from 
Annette’s hand, and calling the ladies’ attention to a comic 
ditty which was tacked upon the back of the sheet, I asked 
them to pass their opinions upon it. 

“ It was a foolish thing, and ran in the chorus something 
like this : 


“ ‘ Pretty little Sarah, with the golden hair 
Her beauty jealous maidens will be scorning; 

She’d ought to’ve been an angel, 

If only rich I were 

I’d marry her so early in the morning.* 

“ As I ended the ditty charming Annette was wreathed 
in smiles and lovely in blushes, while the expression on 
the widow’s face was not, to say the least, pleasant. 

“‘Why, my dear Jennie — that is, Mrs. Bibby,’ said I, ‘I 
fear that I have displeased you. What a thoughtless fel- 
low I am, to be sure, taking the time allotted by appoint- 
ment and due Miss Annette as the pupil and you as the 
teacher. ’ 

“ ‘ It is not that that gives me anxiety, ’ returned the 
widow. ‘Nor do I desire to interrupt your singing, which 
seems to please Miss Bolard so well, although she has now 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


55 


barely time in which to catch the six o’clock train for 
home. ’ 

“I glanced at the clock, and sure enough it lacked but 
a few minutes to six. 

“ Bless me ! I would not for the world have caused Miss 
Annette this trouble, ’ I exclaimed, springing to my feet 
and hastening to the window. 

“‘And, dear me, it is raining !’ (A fact, by the way, of 
which I had been aware for some time, and was prepared 
for.) 

“ ‘ But fortunately I have my umbrella with me, and I 
will do what I can to atone for my faults by shielding Miss 
Annette from the rain to the station. 

“‘Oh, thank you !’ said Annette, as she hastily tied on a 
hat which upon any other head would certainly have 
seemed ugly. 

“But from under the hideous affair the little beauty’s 
bright face beamed fairer to me than ever, and as she 
darted up to Mrs. Bibby and gave her a good-by kiss, I 
certainly envied the widow. 

“ Mrs. Bibby followed us to the door, and being anxious 
that Annette should arrive at the depot in time, advised us 
to hurry. 

“ As I lifted my umbrella, that canopy of delight under 
circumstances, drew Annette’s arm under my own, and 
stepped briskly away with her, I thought that the widow’s 
door banged shut somewhat lively ; but there was a stiff 
storm blowing, and a sudden draft possibly hastened the 
door’s movements. 

“ Alone with Annette, I must admit, I used every en- 
deavor to steal away the little maiden’s heart. 

“ In the widow’s presence I had never felt otherwise than 
as an actor playing a part, but with Annette it was from 
the first a genuine case of love — of love on sight as well. 

“ Swiftly I hurried the little beauty along the wet street, 
and where streams gushed by at the crossings I grasped 
l her tender form and sprang nimbly over with the gentle 
burden. 

“ At six we arrived at the station to find that the train 
was ten minutes late. 

“ I pulled from my pocket a roll of bills, and desired to 
procure her a ticket, but she informed me that she was fur- 
nished with a twenty-six-trip ticket, a form in use on the 
road for frequent journeyers. 

“ I took forth my elegant gold watch, the gift of friends 
in London, to compare time, 


56 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


“ I stood in the depot so that the light which the ticket- 
agent had lit in his window shone full upon the diamond 
in my shirt bosom, and on the ring I wear. 

“ I did everything, in fact, that a man might do under 
the circumstances to create an impression. 

“ And I succeeded. 

“ At length the train, all too soon, thundered into the 
station. 

“‘Here now is the train, Miss Annette, and we must 
part, ’ I said. 

“ ‘ Oh, I am so sorry, ’ she replied, with charming inno- 
cence. 

“ ‘But I know we will meet again at Mrs. Bibby’s. It is 
this day week you take your lessons, is it not?’ 

“‘Yes, every Friday is my day,’ she said. 

“ ‘ And you must tell your papa, Miss Annette, that if 
he wishes your organ tuned up, and you say several of the 
keys are broken, or if he desires to purchase the piano you 
say he has promised you, I will surely serve you cheaper 
than any one else. ’ 

“ ‘ I will tell him. ’ 

“ ‘ Here is my card, Miss Annette. And now good-by. ’ 

“ As I spoke I handed her safely up the car-steps, and 
she tripped into the car. 

“ The train departed and left me alone. 

“ In fact I never felt more lonely in my life than I did 
for the next hour. 

“ For the first I felt the force of the fierce wind and rain- 
storm that swirled about, and it seemed as if I had been 
suddenly hurled forth from fairy-land into a bleak and 
howling wilderness. 

“ I hastened to the hotel, ate a hasty meal, and sat in the 
office for an hour, smoking one of the widow’s ‘weeds,’ si- 
lently and in a dream. 

“ From this I was awakened by jolly Tom Bowling, the 
clerk, who, slapping me familiarly on the shoulder, said : 

“‘Why, Sam, old boy, what’s the matter with you? 
Where now be the gibes with which you made the table 
roar ? Answer me, man, is it the stormy night, or have you 
been to a funeral?’ 

“‘Tom,’ I returned, ‘I have just been looking through 
myself to see if I was not head over heels in love with an 
angel on the earth. ’ 

“ At this slight provocation this jovial fellow roared in 
laughter. 

“At that moment, greatly to my surprise, the sprightly 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


57 


widow, accompanied by several ladies of the house, passed 
through the hall-way toward the parlor. 

“Hearing Tom’s laughter they paused, and the landlady 
playfully bade the young man, who was her brother, not 
to harm himself. 

“‘I’ve just been asking Sam how his heart was,’ he re- 
sponded. 

“ ‘ And how is it?’ quoth the widow. 

“ ‘ Mrs. Bibby, ’ said I, ‘ you should know the condition of 
every article which you possess yourself. ’ 

“ At this bit of gallantry the ladies laughed merrily, and 
disappeared, but I have since learned that such ‘ bits of 
gallantry’ may become formidable things if bestowed in 
public upon sprightly widows. 

“ I have narrated thus minutely my first meeting with 
Annette, doctor,” said the Scotch detective, “because I 
love to recall it, and to show you how charming a little 
lady she is. ” 

“My poor, dear grandchild,” sighed Dr. Macy, “that 
she should this night be lodging among thieves.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

ANNETTE’S DREAM. 

“And now, doctor,” said the Scotch detective, “as my 
tale will soon drift to a part which may prove unpleasant 
to your ears, you must take a swallow more of the brandy 
to nerve you for the recital.” 

Dr. Macy swallowed the proffered brandy, and the Scotch 
detective continued his narrative. 

“While waiting that the week might pass and bring An- 
nette’s next music day,” said he, “I frequently visited 
Mrs. Bibby. 

“I could plainly see that she was fearful and jealous of 
Annette. 

“ I felt assured that she had determined to dismiss her 
fair pupil so soon as she again visited her home. 

“ I laid my plans accordingly. 

“ I busied myself during the week in the role of agent, 
but the time passed very slowly. 

“ Several times I was tempted to take the train for Gar- 
son. 

“ Had I acted solely from promptings regarding my duty 
as a detective, I should have lost no time in doing so. 


58 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


“ But the matter had assumed a phase which required 
delicate treatment. 

“ At length the day dawned, for which I had so patiently 
waited. 

u A circus and menagerie was billed to exhibit in the 
town, and the streets were filled with people who flocked 
from the surrounding country to behold the parade of the 
elephant, and the wonders to transpire in the tented field. 

“ Every train arrived laden with excursionists, and I felt 
some concern lest the crowded state of travel might pre- 
vent xAnnette’s coming. 

“ The two P. M. train from Garson rolled into Cory don 
filled with people. 

“ I carefully scanned the throngs of passengers as they 
left the train, and my heart leaped in glad anticipation as 
I perceived, among the last to leave the cars, the maiden I 
had waited to see. 

“ My little beauty had been going in for adornment. 

“ She wore a dress of purple silk, a gold necklace, and, 
perched over all, the same ugly hat, and heavy vail. 

“ I flattered myself that the purple slik was on my spec- 
ial account. 

“ She paused, too, when she stepped on the platform, and 
looked about her as if she had expected some one in wait- 
ing to meet her. 

“ Assuring herself that no one was on hand to bid her 
welcome, she hastened away toward the widow’s door. 

“ Chatting the while with the youth behind the counter, I 
waited to learn the truth or fallacy of my conjecture as to 
Annette’s reception. 

“ I had not long to wait. 

“ Barely had I smoked a dozen whiffs of my newly fired 
cigar when the door opened, and Annette came briskly 
forth. 

“ She appeared excited and in tears, and paused upon the 
steps to wipe her eyes. 

u She then hastened up the street, as if on her way back 
to the depot. 

“As she did so a window blind in the widow’s parlor was 
pulled aside, and the widow herself, gayly arrayed, with 
white roses in her red hair, peered after the little maiden 
with a self satisfied smirk on her fair features. 

“ When Annette had passed aside from the range of the 
window the blind dropped to its place. 

“ The little beauty passed directly by the corner where I 
stood, and down the cross street toward the station. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


59 


“ I stepped from a side door and followed her. 

u ‘ Ha, ha ! Miss Annette ; playing truant from your 
music lesson, I perceive, ’ I sang out, gayly , as I approached 
her side. 

“ She paused, and drew aside her vail. Her eyes were 
red, and on the long lashes hung tell-tale tear-drops. 

“‘Oh, I’m so delighted to see you !’ she exclaimed, with 
a start, and extending her little gloved hand. ‘ But Mrs. 
Bibby is waiting your coming, and I must not detain you. ’ 

u 4 1 see no reason why she should be, ’ I replied. ‘ Did 
she not give you your lessons ?’ 

‘“No; she — that is — I am quite sure she said she was 
waiting your coming, and that you were going to the circus 
together. ’ 

u ‘ Believe me, Annette, she has no promise of mine to 
warrant her thinking so. She did ask me to accompany 
her to the circus, but I replied that that would interfere 
with your lesson. She then assured me that you would not 
come to-day. But I believed that you would come, for all 
that, and have been watching and waiting until you had 
done your lesson, that I might invite you to accompany me 
to the show. ’ 

“A startled expression came into the little beauty’s eyes, 
and she tapped her little foot upon the pavement, and 
looked at it. 

“‘It is very strange, 9 she said. ‘Mrs. Bibby is confident 
that you are coming, and said she must be excused from 
giving my lesson to-day, and that she would be unable to 
give any further instruction as she was engaged to be mar- 
ried to you. ’ 

u ‘ She has no right to say this, ’ said I. ‘The fact is, I 
only cultivated her acquaintance that I might form yours, 
for I had seen you on the trains, and though ardently de- 
siring to know you, felt that I could only do so agreeably to 
yourself in the way of a proper introduction. ’ 

“ ‘ Then you do not love Mrs. Bibby, and are not engaged 
to marry her?’ she asked, her eyes beaming with innocent 
pleasure. 

“ ‘ Believe me, Annette, I never dreamed of such a thing 
before I met you, and certainly not after. The fact is, I 
have never loved any woman in the world, and as for get- 
ting married, I vow that if I ever do that, it will be with 
the consent of some little lady about your size. ’ 

“ ‘ My consent ?’ 

“‘Yes, your consent, and provided the bride has hair 
like yours, has blue eyes, wears a blue traveling dress 


60 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


sometimes and sometimes a purple silk, likes to hear plan- 
tation melodies, and — ” 

“ ‘ Me ! do you mean me ?’ 

“‘Yes, Annette ; I mean you. I love you.’ 

“‘And I loved you the first time I saw you, ’ she ex- 
claimed. 

“ I caught the innocent little beauty to my breast, right 
there and then upon the street, and kissed her fondly. 

u ‘Oh, I am so happy !’ she exclaimed, as I released her 
from my embrace, her blue eyes fairly dancing in delight. 

‘“And when shall we be married ?’ 

“ ‘ I would say in ten minutes if I could, Annette, ’ I re- 
plied. ‘But come, take my arm, and we’ll walk to the 
show and talk the matter over. ’ 

“‘You see,’ I continued, as we turned toward the show 
grounds, ‘the first point is to obtain your parents’ con- 
sent. ’ 

“‘Yes,’ she responded, reflectively. ‘You will go with 
me on the train to-night to repair our organ, won’t you?’ 

“ ‘ I will, Annette. ’ 

“‘Oh, I will be so happy to have you come !’ 

“‘You live at Garson, don’t you?’ 

“‘Yes.’ 

“ ‘ Your father keeps a hotel there, doesn’t he?’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Bolard does, but he is not my father. ’ 

“ ‘Not your father !’ 

“ ‘No, Roe Fandon. You know he is not.’ 

“ I never was more astonished in my life. I had often 
heard said that we don’t give the girls credit for knowing 
half as much as they do, but how innocent Annette should 
know that I was Roe Fandon puzzled me. 

“ ‘ Why, whom do you think I am, Annette V 

“ She looked at me a moment archly, and said : 

“‘We are to be married, are we not?’ 

“‘Yes.’ 

“ ‘ Well, then, there should be no secrets between us, 
should there?’ 

“‘No.’ 

Then I do not think— I know that you are Roe Fan- 
don, a Scotland Yard detective, come to find my true papa 
and mamma for me. ’ 

How do you know this, Annette?’ 

day y° u were dressed in tramp’s clothes, fol- 
owed Silly’ Billy from prison in London, asked me for a 
glass of water, Bolard pushed me back from the door be- 
fore I could give you a glass of milk ; I signaled to you 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


61 


from the up-stairs window of the cottage in England — do 
you mind that V 

“I nodded assent, smiling as I did so, for the little 
maiden’s spirits ran high, and her enunciation was swift 
enough to do credit to a ‘ gal down Maine. ’ 

“ ‘ Well,’ she continued, ‘when you showed me your 
badge ‘Mam’ Meg Bolard, and ‘Silly’ Billy were peeping 
at you from the window down stairs, and I heard ‘Silly’ 
Billy say, that you were Roe Fandon, a detective from 
Scotland Yard. So Bolard thought it was all Billy’s fault, 
and that you had come to make sure where he lived only. 
But I knew different. And ‘ Mam’ Meg told me you were a 
bad man, and wanted to take our home from us. But I 
knew different, and so Bolard got frightened, and the first 
thing I knew we were all going on a long journey — and 
here we’ve landed from over the ocean at Garson. And — 
oh, wasn’t I glad when I saw you standing at the switch 
when General Grant’s special was on the side track. And 
then, when Mrs. Bibby introduced you to me as Sam 
Josalyn, oh, I was so much afraid that you would recognize 
me before her that I almost fainted. ’ 

“ I was thunderstruck — in fact, I almost fainted myself. 
Here was a girl who had been quietly ‘laying’ for me, 
while I thought I was ‘piping’ her. 

“ My amazement was so great that I really think if at 
that moment the fellow who says that girls don’t know a 
thing or two had approached me, I would have knocked 
him down from impulse without thinking what I was doing. 

“‘Now, Roe Fandon, show me your badge,’ she added, 
‘for you are Roe Fandon, aren’t you, Roe?’ 

“‘Just as I am, without one plea,’ I replied, pushing 
aside my coat and exposing my badge. 

“‘Then you are, for sure and certain, Roe Fandon?’ she 
repeated, a twinkle of roguery in her bright eyes. 

“‘Yes, I am Roe Fandon as sure as you are Annette 
Godot. ’ 

“ ‘ Annette Godot ? Is that my true name V 

“ ‘ As sure as my true name is Roe Fandon. ’ 

“ ‘ And you are Detective Roe Fandon, from Scotland 
Yard?’ 

“‘Yes, my dear little dish of strawberries and cream, 
yes. ’ 

“ ‘ And you will try to find my true papa and mamma for 
me?’ 

“‘Yes, my night blooming Cereus, new-mown hay, yes,* 

“‘And you will marry me, Roe?’ 


62 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


‘“Yes. I will be your John- Anderson-my- Joe -John, yes.’ 

“‘Oh, I am so happy!’ exclaimed the light-hearted little 
fairy, and, suddenly springing from the sidewalk, she 
flung her arms about my neck and clung there until she 
had kissed me ‘ frequent times. ’ 

“ ‘ You seem very glad to learn that I am in truth a de- 
tective. Why is it?’ I inquired, as we walked on. 

“‘Because I know that some deep mystery hangs over 
my life.’ 

“‘Have not Bolard and Meg treated you kindly?’ 

“ ‘ Mam Meg has always treated me as if she had been my 
own mother, but I know she is not, although she says she 

is. ’ 

“ ‘How do you know that?’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I have overheard so many things when Bolard and 
Billy have quarreled. ’ 

“ ‘ Do they speak of a crime when they quarrel ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes — of a murder ?’ 

“ ‘ And you are glad that I have come to arrest them for 
it?’ 

“ ‘Oh, no, no ! you must not arrest them !’ 

“ ‘ Then what would you have me do ?’ 

“ ‘Find my true papa and mamma for me.’ 

“ ‘ And that is why you are glad that I am a detective ?’ 

“‘Yes, partly. You see, I once had a dream — a very 
strange dream. Do you believe in dreams?’ 

“ ‘ Sometimes. What was the dream ?’ 

“ ‘ Why, would you believe, I thought I was wading near 
Billy in a river of red, red water just like real blood. But 
— oh, it seemed so pretty, for all over the river were float- 
ing thousands and thousands of bright, shining gold coins. 
Then I thought I was sinking deeper, deeper down in the 
river as if I would drown. And just then I happened to 
look on the bank, and there stood a tall young man reach- 
ing out his hand to save me. And on his breast was a 
badge just like yours, so that I knew he was a detective. 
And his face was exactly like your face, Roe Fandon — and 
it was you. ’ 

“‘When did you dream this dream, Annette?’ 

“‘Oh, long, long before I saw you in the tramp’s dress at 
the cottage, and I dreamed it over and over, oh, so many 
times. And when I met you I knew the dream was true. ’ 

“‘So you see, Bobe,” said the Scotch detective, pausing 
in his narrative, “here is another wonderful instance of the 
telegraphy of brain to brain, or whatever you might call 

it. You see, doctor, Annette believing from what she had 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


63 


overheard that the people in the cottage where she dwelt 
had been guilty of committing a murder for money, 
dreamed this dream, and I, a detective, unknown to her, 
dreamed the same dream at the same time in London. 
Now, the question is, by what mysterious power was the 
vision of the sleeping girl transferred to my brain so far 
off as London, so that the front of her dream was the back 
of mine ?” 

“Dreams are strange things,” returned the doctor. 
“Swedenborg’s brain was said to have been intelligently 
impressed with events happening hundreds of miles away, 
and the Holy Book says, ‘ your old men shall prophesy, and 
your young men dream dreams. ’ But the tendency of the 
age is to disbelieve such things, and so, I suppose, the 
polite explanation of the strange experience you speak of 
would be to let it go as a strange coincidence.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ANGRY MRS. BIBBY. 

“As we walked on,” continued the Scotch detective, “I 
showed Annette the miniatures of her father and mother, 
informed her how I had unearthed the murder of her 
grandfather, and the precise nature of the errand on which 
I had been dispatched from Scotland Yard. 

“She wept bitterly on learning her parents’ fate, and 
protested against the arrest of Bolard, Meg, and Billy. 

“‘We will never more go near them, Roe,’ she said. 
‘And now I just feel as if I had no relative in all the 
world. ’ 

“‘Tut, tut — and where then do I come in?’ I asked. 

“We were passing the jewelry store of one Squire Orday, 
at the time, and in order to cheer the little maiden, I led 
her within, and placed a splendid engagement-ring upon 
her hand. 

‘ ‘ This prime remedy for all female ailments acted like a 
charm upon her spirits, and I was correspondingly happy. 

“But every rose has its thorn, every pleasure its pain, 
and one of Squire Orday’ s daughters, who was a friend and 
pupil of Mrs. Bibby, was in the store, and saw the engage- 
ment-ring go on. 

“Miss Mary Orday certainly never drew a prize for keep- 
ing secrets, and subsequent events cause me to think that 


64 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


if the young ladies of her caliber might be induced to take 
as much interest in the ordinary business affairs of man, 
as in the joint matters of man and woman, telegraph wires 
would be useless. 

“Soon after I led Mrs. Fandon, that is to be, into the cir- 
cus pavilion. 

4 ‘ The sight was a new one to her, and the wild beasts of 
the menagerie, the antics of the clowns and athletes, and 
the music of the band caused the artless little maiden much 
enjoyment. 

“When the performance had ended it was within a half 
hour of train time. 

“‘And now what will we do?’ asked Annette, as we 
strolled toward the depot. 

‘“What do you think?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ I think we should sail for England and take possession 
of the fortune my grandpa left behind him. ’ 

“This was rather a comprehensive programme, and I 
was loth to inform my fair fiancee that its present execu- 
tion was not practicable. 

“‘In order to do that, Annette,’ I said, ‘I must first find 
legal proofs against your grandpa’s murderers, and you 
must aid me in doing so. ’ 

“‘How?’ 

“‘By returning in my company to Garson, and acting 
there toward me as if I were a piano tuner. ’ 

“We had now reached the cross street that turned 
toward the depot, one block from the widow’s house. 

Mrs. Bibby stood upon the front steps of her home, evi- 
dently very angry, and gesticulating wildly. 

“She was talking to a gentleman, who was a lawyer. 

“Near by stood Miss Mary Orday, awaiting develop- 
ments, and gathering points for up-town circulation. 

“As the widow beheld us among the crowd that thronged 
the sidewalk her tones became so loud that her voice could 
be heard a block away. 

“Annette was the first to perceive the furious lady, and 
she apprised me of the danger by pressing closely to me in 
fear, and saying as she did so : 

“‘Oh, yes, Roe, we will go to Garson ! Here is the cross- 
ing to the depot, and there is Mrs. Bibby looking at us so 
angrily. Oh, I wouldn’t stay an hour in Corydon for the 
world. ’ 

. “Glancing toward the widow’s house I perceived that, 
in her rage, the wrathful lady had sprung to the sidewalk, 
evidently bent upon approaching us. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


65 


“The lawyer, however, led her away to procure a war- 
rant for my arrest for breach of promise, as I afterward 
learned, and instructed her to make oath that she believed 
it was my intention to leave the State, and place the injury 
done her beyond repair. 

“Hastening to the depot we found a special train wait- 
ing to bear the crowd of circus-goers eastward in advance 
of the regular express. 

“Annette still trembled in fear of her angry teacher as 
I assisted her on board, nor did she breathe freely until 
we rolled away toward Garson. ” 

“Poor child !” growled the doctor. “Affianced to a man 
from Scotland Yard, and this night an inmate of a New 
York den of thieves.” 

“Have patience, doctor ; I am coming to that,” said the 
Scotch detective. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE PIANO-TUNER AT WORK. 

“As the train rolled on,” continued the Scotch detective, 
“I explained my plan of procedure to Annette, and began 
to prepare for the business ahead of me. 

“The brakemen were lighting their lights, when, retir- 
ing to a corner of the car, I adjusted my gold-rimmed spec- 
tacles, and donned my gray wig, which, by the way, Bobe, 
cost me one thousand francs in Paris. 

“Returning through the car, I overheard several jokes 
cracked by young men in the ears of their girls about the 
parson having been to see the elephant, and Annette was 
much surprised at my altered appearance. 

“Although experience has taught me that even the finest 
make-ups are flimsy 4 give-aways’ in the eyes of practical 
thieves, I thought I was safe from recognition by ‘ Silly’ 
Billy, who I alone feared. 

“If, however, I was recognized as the man from Scot- 
land Yard, I was prepared for the worst. 

4 4 In my coat-pocket were three pairs of handcuffs, while, 
easy of reach, in my pistol-pockets, were two excellent re- 
volvers ready for work. 

“It was quite dark when we stepped from the train at 
Garson station. 

“The village consisted of a score or more of houses, and 
the station was but a platform. 


66 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


“A large crowd had returned from the show, but almost 
the first person who attracted my attention was a tall man 
in a blue shirt and white slouch hat, whom I at once recog- 
nized as the crazy giant. 

“He was calling out ‘Bolard’s Hotel!’ and directing 
passengers toward a large, white frame-house, standing 
amid a grove of trees, a hundred yards south of the rail- 
way. 

“His eye had been quicker than mine, for I perceived 
that he was gazing intently at me when my eyes met his. 

“A moment he flitted about on the outskirts of the 
crowd, and then disappeared. 

“As we approached the house I perceived that the bar at 
the right of the main entrance was filled with a noisy gang 
of drunken circus-goers. 

“To the left of the entrance was the office of the hotel. 

“It was dimly lighted, and its shades closed. 

“Annette led briskly through the hall- way, and to the 
parlor at the rear of the office. 

“Playing her role, as I had instructed, she pointed 
toward the organ, and said : 

“ ‘This is the organ, Mr. Josalyn. You will, of course, be 
able to see for yourself what repairing is necessary. ’ 

“ ‘Very well, miss,’ I replied, and at once began to thump 
on the keys like a professional tuner at work. 

“At that moment the harsh voice of Meg Bolard called 
from above in the hall-way : 

“ ‘Annette !’ 

“ ‘Yes, “Mam” Meg,’ responded Annette, as she tripped 
lightly into the hall-way. ‘ The gentleman from Corydon 
has come to repair the organ. ’ 

“ ‘ All right, ’ came the answer. ‘ Come you up stairs here. 
I want to show you something your father has bought. ’ 

“Annette hastened up the stair- way, and I continued my 
work upon the organ. 

“In a very few minutes I had replaced the broken keys, 
and then, removing the top, I tightened the wires within, 
until the instrument sounded in much improved tone. 

“All the while I made as much noise as I could, and 
seemed wholly absorbed in my work. 

“No one entered the parlor, but I was not blind to the 
fact that keen eyes were upon me from without the win- 
dow, which opened to the rear. 

“Having completed my task, I seated myself at a table 
upon which burned a lamp, keeping my features changed 
so as to appear like any one else but myself. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 67 

“ Taking forth note-book and pencil I began to figure as 
if arranging the amount of my charge. 

“For some time I sat thus, and as Annette did not re- 
turn I began to fear that my identity had been discovered 
by ‘Silly’ Billy. 

“I resolved to proceed to business at once. 

“Stepping from the parlor, I entered among the noisy 
throng in the bar-room, looked about, and withdrew. 

“Crossing the hall-way to the office, I entered it. 

“Bolard, presenting the same vigorous appearance as 
when I had met him at the cottage in England, was the 
sole occupant. 

“ He sat, as if in a doze, in an easy-chair tipped back 
against the office bar. 

“ A newspaper lay carelessly spread upon his knees, and 
a pair of spectacles hung awry upon his nose. 

“I felt that I was in the presence of the actual murderer 
of Jean Godot. 

“ I knew that although he feigned sleep he was wide 
awake. 

“ I realized that my identity had been discovered, or sus- 
pected. 

‘ ‘ The man before me believed that I was an officer on his 
trail, that his neck was in danger, and had resolved to out- 
general me in my own line. 

“ A keen steel cleaver or corn knife had been placed care- 
lessly near the registry-book, as if by some one who had 
been laboring in a near-by corn field. 

“ There was a cool determination in the manner of the 
pretended sleeper which boded no good, and I somehow 
felt that one of us would never leave that room alive. 

“Banging the door boldly behind me, I exclaimed as I 
entered : 

“ ‘Ho, sir ! are you the landlord?’ 

“ ‘Yes, sir,’ he responded, opening his eyes, and dropping 
his chair to the floor, as a man naturally would in waking 
from a doze. 

“ ‘Uncommon drowsy, sir, to-night,’ he added, rubbing 
his eyes. ‘Did you just drop in on the train?’ 

“ ‘ I came on the train a while ago to repair your organ. ’ 

“ ‘Oh, yes, yes — my daughter spoke to me of it. You 
will find it in the parlor. ’ 

“ ‘I have repaired it already — put three new key- tops 
on, tightened the cords inside, and it is now all right. ’ 

“‘How much do I owe you for the service?’ J 

“ ‘Three dollars.’ 


68 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


“Taking a roll of bills from his pocket, he handed me 
three dollars. 

“ ‘Your daughter informed me that you proposed soon to 
buy her a piano. She plays well, but I am sure would pro- 
gress more rapidly upon the larger instrument. I can 
offer some fine pianos all the way from one hundred and 
fifty dollars up as high as you wish to go. ’ 

“And I presented my card — ‘Samuel Josalyn, Agent, 
Corydon, Pa.’ 

“‘On thinking it over, I have concluded not to buy for 
the present,’ he responded, taking the card. ‘But should 
I at any time think different, I will keep the card and 
write you. ’ 

“‘Very well, sir, I won’t insist. So, tell me, is there a 
train leaving toward Corydon to-night ?’ 

“‘Not before five in the morning — unless you might 
work through on a freight. ’ 

“‘Then I suppose I must remain with you for the night,’ 
I said, dropping into a chair. 

“‘Very well, sir, we can accommodate you. Would you 
wish to retire now ?’ 

“‘No — no hurry. By the way, will you request your 
daughter to test the tone of the organ ? — there might be 
something, you know, which she would prefer altered. ’ 

“‘She has stepped out with her mother to a neighbor’s. 
But I dare say the instrument is all right. ’ 

“‘Then, for fear I might not meet her,’ said I, taking 
Plinny’s necromantic glass from my pocket, ‘here is a 
music-box puzzle brought by Mrs. Bibby’s brother, a sailor, 
and presented by that lady to Miss Bolard. I carried it for 
her from Corydon, on account of its weight, and have 
failed to give it to her. ’ 

“Taking the black glass ball from my hand, he adjusted 
his spectacles and looked at it. 

“‘A puzzle, did you say?’ he asked. 

“‘Yes. Hold it so. In a moment, as its iron bottom is 
warmed by your hand, the fluid within will move, and 
you will hear it play the notes of an air, like a music-box. ’ 

“For several minutes he gazed at the glass intently. 

“‘Does the fluid move?’ I asked. 

“‘Yes — it is just beginning,’ he answered. 

“‘You will soon hear it play, then.’ 

“A minute elapsed, and I said : 

“‘Do you hear anything yet?' 

“He returned no answer. 

“ The murderer was asleep !” 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


69 


At this point the Scotch detective took the necromantic 
glass from his pocket. 

u I have seen these ‘sleep-glasses’ frequently,” said Dr. 
Macy, examining it closely, “they are constructed on a 
simple, scientific principle, and certainly exert a powerful 
mesmeric influence upon the beholder. But this is the first 
one I have encountered outside of India, and it is a crime, 
severely punished, to possess one in the domains of some 
of the rajahs.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

“iron” mike’s death. 

“ For a time I sat gazing upon the sleeping murderer,” 
continued the Scotch detective. 

“ I pictured the man before me, as he had approached 
softly "behind Jean Godot, seized the keen razor in the 
hand that now held the glass ball, and slashed the old 
miser’s throat with it. 

“ While the picture of the murder impressed my brain I 
placed the palm of my right hand softly under and against 
the hand that held the ball. 

“‘Bolard,’ said I, ‘I am Meg. Do you see me?’ 

‘“Yes, Meg,’ responded the murderer, without removing 
his stolid stare from the glass. 

“ I saw that he was thoroughly mesmerized, and in my 
power. 

“ ‘ Tell, me, Bolard, ’ I continued, ‘ did old Godot say any- 
thing to you before you killed him?’ 

“ ‘ How could he ? He had not even time to turn about, I 
slipped up so softly behind him. ’ 

“ ‘ Did he not moan when you drew the blade across his 
throat?’ 

“ ‘There was no sound save the gurgling of the blood, 
and the thud as he fell to the floor. But what blood was in 
a man so old ?’ 

“ ‘ Was Pere Yidere with you when you killed Godot?’ 

“ ‘ No. He was in London. ’ 

“ ‘ But he knew all about it ?’ 

“ ‘ Certainly. ’ 

“‘And it was he who wrote the supposed will?’ 

“‘Yes.’ 

“‘And it was he who kidnapped Alfonse Godot away to 


70 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


‘“He and Billy.’ 

“ ‘Had murder been suspected on whom would you have 
thrown the blame?’ 

“ ‘ On Billy. ’ 

‘“Why?’ 

“‘Because he is silly, and would likely do such a thing.’ 
“‘When did you first meet Pere Videre?’ 

“‘Haven’t I told you a hundred times, he is my son?’ 
“‘And what did he do to live before he came to old 
Godot’s place?’ 

“ ‘ He was the same as I used to be. ’ 

“‘What?’ 

“‘A thief.’ 

“ ‘ What name did you go by when you were a thief ?’ 

“ ‘ Mike Drugo. The boys called me “ Iron” Mike. ’ 

“ ‘ And what did they call Pere ?’ 

“ ‘ Jack Drugo, the “ Squealer”— from his squeaking talk. ’ 
“ ‘How did you come to get in the employ of old Godot?’ 

“ ‘ I had served a ten years’ sentence for burglary, and, 
being sick of London, thought I would strike the country. 
I came to Jean Godot’s place, and had been told he was 
the richest farmer in the neighborhood. To get my bear- 
ings, I applied to him for work. He had recently dis- 
missed his head-farmer from service. I told him that my 
father had been a French gardener, and he employed me. 
I found that he kept his ready money in bank, and so I 
worked along planning to get everything he had, and then 
“tie up prigging.” ’ 

“‘Did Pere give you your share of the money?’ 

“ ‘ Of the ready, yes ; and my share of the yearly income 
of the estate is over a thousand pounds each twelvemonth. ’ 
“ ‘ Then you are rich ?’ 

“ ‘ I own half of the estate, this house, two farms, and in 
the safe in the corner are thirty thousand dollars in bonds. ’ 
“ ‘ Well, what of Annette ?’ 

“ ‘ She must be kept close, and away from all men. ’ 

“ ‘Does she know anything that might harm us?’ 

“ ‘Haven’t you told her that I am suspected of a crime 
that I did not do ?’ 

“ ‘ But that is nothing. ’ 

“ ‘ But she has overheard things, Meg, and she suspects 
that she is not our child. ’ 

“ ‘She is the picture of her mother, is she not?’ 

“‘Yes.’ 

“ ‘Do you like the girl?’ 

‘“Yes — but I wish she were dead.’ 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


71 


“‘She is innocent, I am sure?’ 

“‘That’s why I fear her.’ 

“ ‘ Have you seen this fellow who has come with her from 
Cory don to tune the organ ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes. Billy knows him. He’s a Scotland Yard man in 
disguise. ’ 

“ ‘ Did he tune the organ ?’ 

‘“He did so.’ 

“ ‘ Did you pay him ?’ 

“ ‘Yes. ’ 

“ ‘How much?’ 

“ ‘ Three dollars. ’ 

“‘Well, what’s to be done?’ 

“ ‘ Get Annette out of the way. ’ 

“‘How?’ 

“ ‘Has the express train gone East yet?’ 

“‘No.’ 

“ ‘Where is Annette ?’ 

“ ‘ She is coming to the house with the detective. ’ 

“‘Well, what’s to be done?’ 

“ ‘ Call her to your room. Have a pot of hot coffee there. 
Tell her I have bought a sack of it. Drug the stuff, and 
bid her test the quality. Be careful of the dose. If you 
kill her, all’s over with us.’ 

“ ‘ What is the dose needed ?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Two of the small powders. ’ 

“‘What then?’ 

“ * Put such clothes as you may need for a week in a 
traveling bag. Take Billy with you to carry it and help 
with the girl. ’ 

“‘Where shall we go?’ 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“hang him! lynch him! swing him up!” 

“ ‘ Go around about, in the shade of the trees, to the other 
side of the track, and stand out of sight till the train 
comes. ’ 

“‘What then?’ 

“‘Get on on the dark side of the train, back at the last 
sleeper. ’ 

“‘And where will we go?’ 

“ ‘ Tell the train-men that you are taking a crazy girl to 
the asylum at Harrisburg, and pay your fares there. ’ 


72 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


“‘Does Billy go with us?’ 

“‘Yes, you will need him.’ 

“‘And what will we do at Harrisburg?’ 

“‘Keep onto New York, where everybody don’t know 
everybody else. ’ 

“‘What then?’ 

“‘Take “shady” rooms, and keep the girl and Billy in 
them till I write to you. ’ 

“‘Will you write to me?’ 

“‘Yes, in a week or so.’ 

“‘How will you address the letter?’ 

“ ‘ I will send it from Corydon, and address it to Mrs. 
Margaret Bolard, New York city.’ 

“‘And how shall I pay expenses?’ 

“‘I will give you a thousand dollars for expenses.’ 

“‘And what shall I say to Annette when she awakes?’ 

“‘Tell her that she has the brain fever, and that you are 
taking her to a good doctor. ’ 

“‘And what will you do?’ 

“‘Stay here.’ 

“‘Aren’t you afraid?’ 

“‘Why should I be? I’ve changed. I have property, 
and am known here as an honest man The detective dare 
not take me without proof, and there’s no proof, if Billy 
and the girl are kept out of the way. ’ 

“At that moment the shrill whistle of the east-bound ex- 
press train, as it thundered into the station, sounded from 
the railway, and, realizing that Annette was to be an un- 
willing passenger thereon, I bounded to my feet. 

“As I did so the necromantic glass roiled from Bolard’s 
hand upon the floor, and, with a wild stare, he awoke. 

“I rushed toward him, but with great agility he sprang 
from the chair and dodged me. 

“Pulling a pair of handcuffs from my pocket, I exclaimed, 
as I exhibited my badge : 

“‘Iron Mike, you are wanted for the murder of Jean 
Godot. ’ 

“As I spoke I sprang for him again, but he again eluded 
my grasp. 

“His eyes fell upon the ugly corn-knife on the desk. 

“Before I could prevent him he seized it and darted 
toward me. 

“I returned the manacles to my pocket, and caught up a 
chair. 

“As I did so the terrible weapon descended, spending its 
force in a savage cut upon the chair’s oaken bottom. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


73 


‘‘About the room he chased me, striking furiously — I 
making the chair my shield. 

“The man seemed crazed, and as if but half awake. 

“At length he paused, well out of breath, and glared 
toward me like a wild beast at bay. 

“I realized that the encounter meant death to one of us. 

“Pulling forth a revolver I cast aside the chair and 
cocked and leveled the weapon at his head. 

“Our eyes met, and I was cool and determined. 

“‘Iron Mike,’ I commanded, ‘hold up your hands !’ 

“As if by impulse, he raised his hands above his head, 
his right still clutching the corn-knife’s handle. 

“Keeping my pistol at his head, and my eye to his, I 
took the handcuffs again from my pocket. 

“‘Drop that knife !’ I cried, as I advanced toward him. 

“For a moment his eyes rolled wildly from side to side. 

“Suddenly closing them, he brought the keen cleaver to 
a level with his throat, drew it violently across, causing a 
frightful gash, from which the blood gushed in a torrent, 
and, with a dull thud, fell forward upon the floor dead. 

“The sight sickened me, and I almost felt as you did, 
Bobe, when your passengers had plunged to their deaths. 

“In fact, it seemed to me as if my mind’s picture of Jean 
Godot’s murder had been transmitted so as to impress 
Bolard’s faculties, and suggest the method of his death.” 

“Let me understand,” interrupted Bridger. “Did you 
know in England that Bolard and Yidere were ‘crooked’ 
people, and father and son ?” 

“I wish I had, Bobe,” returned the Scotch detective. 
“But I learned that for the first in the strange interview I 
have recounted.” 

“And have you cabled the police authorities in London 
regarding the identity of this man Yidere with Jack 
Drugo ?” asked Dr. Macy. 

“I have not,” returned the Scotch detective. “But I have 
sent them a verbatim report of this interview, and asked 
them to find out if Yidere and the ‘Squealer’ are the 
same. ” 

“Did you ever meet this man Yidere?” asked Bridger. 

“I never had that luck, Bobe,” returned the Scotch de- 
tective. “But I have seen the ‘Squealer’s’ picture in the 
Bogues’ Gallery, and would likely know him. 

“My thoughts were of Annette,” continued the Scotch 
detective, “and as the suicide fell I sprang to the window 
and lifted, the blind to see if the train was still at the depot, 


74 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“I knew that unless some unusual occurrence had de- 
tained it it had certainly departed. 

“A glance assured me that the train had passed upon its 
way, and that my little Annette, drugged to slumber, was 
being hurried eastward according to the plan of the dead 
man at my feet. 

“A throng of circus-goers, who had missed the first 
train, approached the hotel from the railway, and one of 
the number suddenly cried out : 

“‘A fight!’ 

‘ The cry w^as taken up by others of the crowd, and the 
noisy bar-room in response emptied itself of its ‘ drunks’ 
upon the street. 

“I had held at the window my cocked revolver in hand, 
and this I realized had caused the uproar. 

“The next instant the hall-way was thronged with bois- 
terous men, the office-door flew open, and the bartender, 
followed by the drunken mob, surged within. 

“‘Great Heaven ! Bolard is dead !’ cried the bartender, 
starting back in horror, as he perceived the dead body of 
his employer in the pool of blood upon the floor,, 

“At once every one near enough to see me, pistol in 
hand, set me down as the innkeeper’s murderer. 

‘“Hang him ! Lynch him ! Swing him up !’ they cried, 
and things began to look dark to a certainty. 

“I felt that if I did not act promptly and well my life 
was of little account. 

“Drawing forth and cocking my second revolver, I ad- 
vanced several steps toward the excited crowd, which had 
paused where the dead man lay, and seemed plucking cour- 
age to spring forward and seize me. 

“‘Men,’ said I, showing my badge, ‘I warn you all that I 
am an officer here on duty. I attempted to arrest this man 
for cause, and sooner than submit to arrest he killed him- 
self, as you see. ’ 

‘“It’s a lie ! You came here to rob and murder him !’ 
shouted a voice in the crowd. 

“And then a score of voices set up the cry of : 

“‘Hang him Lynch him ! Swing him up !’ 

“And yet none seemed ready to take the initiative in 
seizing me. 

“At length a man in the rear of the throng sang out : 

“‘Go get a rope, and I’ll hold him ready for it.’ 

“Saying so, he pushed his way through the crowd and 
appeared at its head. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


75 


“He was a broad, burly farmer, and to a degree under 
the influence of liquor. 

“He made several steps beyond the body in my direc- 
tion, and the crowd eagerly followed him. 

“‘Back !’ I cried, leveling both pistols at his head. ‘I am 
an officer of the law, and if you advance a step farther you 
are a dead man !’ 

“The man perceived that I was determined, stopped 
where he stood, while the crowd surged backward. 

‘“Have you a police officer or constable in this village?’ 
I demanded. 

“‘We have,’ returned the burly farmer, ‘but we’ll need 
none in your case. ’ 

“Again the mob responded with shouts of “Lynch him !’ 
and the burly farmer swayed to and fro as if making ready 
to spring forward and seize me. 

“I kept my pistols at his head and my eye on his, while 
a confident and scornful smile played on my lips, and I 
shook my head at him so as to convey the impression that 
I considered him a blustering bully, and not to be feared. 

“‘What is this constable’s name?’ I demanded. 

“‘John Westbrook. He is here !’ came from the hall- way. 

“‘Stand aside and let Constable Westbrook pass in,’ I 
commanded. 

“This the men did, and a tall, dark-complexioned man 
made his way to the front. 

“He appeared perfectly cool and collected. 

“‘Are you Constable Westbrook?’ I asked. 

“‘Iam.’ 

‘“Please step here beside me,’ I said, and he did so. 

“The crowd seemed disposed to follow him, but I held 
them at bay. 

“‘Constable Westbrook,’ said I, showing my badge, ‘I 
am a detective, have followed clews, and have found that 
this dead man was a murderer. I attempted his arrest to- 
night, and rather than submit, and before I could prevent 
it, he grasped up the corn-knife that lies near him, and cut 
his throat. I am, therefore, either an officer assailed in 
the discharge of my duty, whom it is your duty to assist, 
or a murderer in your custody, whom you must deliver to 
prison for trial, and defend against violence.’ 

“‘Lynch h'm ! Hang him, Westbrook ! He’s giving you 
“taffy !” ’ cri)d the mob. 

“ ‘ I know t lat what you say is my duty, ’ responded West- 
brook, ‘but how may I proceed against these hundred men ?’ 


76 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“‘Are there any level headed men in this crowd, whom 
you can deputize as your assistants?’ 

‘“There are some half dozen such men.’ 

‘“Then deputize them at once, and call them to your 
side to serve. ’ 

“In a loud voice the officer called out the names of half a 
dozen men, and, deputizing them constables, ordered them 
to his side. 

“‘Now, Constable Westbrook,’ said I, just as the appear- 
ance of an individual, bearing a coil of rope, was greeted 
by the mob with loud cheering, ‘ the first thing to be done is 
to clear the house. Then you can place me under guard as 
a criminal, and deliver me on the morning train to the 
prison at Cory don. ’ 

“Ranging his deputies in line he advanced upon the 
crowd, and in the name of the law ordered the excited men 
back, while I followed with pistols leveled as the officers 
forced the mob from the house. 

“When the last would-be lyncher had been shoved with- 
out the doors were locked and barred. 

“The constable and his men then entered the office, and 
I gave them a brief outline of the crime which Bolard had 
committed, and picking up the glass, explained how I had 
practiced upon the dead man through its mesmeric effect. 

“‘I am truly sorry,’ I added, ‘that this excitement and 
turmoil have been visited upon your peaceful village, but 
cannot blame myself more than any officer might who had 
met the same ill-luck. For all know that I had far sooner 
have taken this man Bolard alive — though I had not hesi- 
tated to kill him, if that had been necessary. He killed 
himself, however, as I have said, when he found that his 
fight against arrest was useless — and the chipped bottom of 
that chair, with which I shielded myself from his blows, 
attests the truth of what I say. ’ 

“Westbrook and his deputies, all of whom were intelli 
gent men, believed my story, and promised that they would 
do all in their power to deliver me before a justice at Cory- 
don in the morning, who should decide the matter. 

“Meanwhile the turmoil had continued without, and 
handing one of my revolvers to Constable Westbrook, I 
told him that I was now in his custody. 

“He decided that I should be locked in one of the sleep- 
ing apartments above, while he and his men would remain 
below to hold the mob in check. 

“Accompanied by two deputies, I ascended to the second 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


77 


story of the house and entered an unoccupied apartment, 
the door of which the officers locked after me. ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE HANGING MATCH. 

4 4 Alone in the dark room, ” continued the Scotch detec- 
tive, “I stood for a moment framing my plan of procedure. 

4 4 1 had no notion of being strung up by the excited throng 
of country people below, and decided at once that the 
surest way to prevent that experience would be to give 
them the slip. 

“I could hear the voice of Constable Westbrook expostu- 
lating with the mob, who had made a battering-ram of a 
fence rail, and were endeavoring to hammer down the 
hall-way door. 

4 4 Stepping to a window, I peered upon the scene without. 

44 I had not dreamed that there were so many people in 
the neighborhood. 

“It seemed as if every man, child, woman, and baby, 
for miles around, had gathered to the scene. 

“The men forming the attacking party were huddled to- 
gether, shouting themselves hoarse, and the larger portion 
of them were intoxicated circus-goers. 

4 4 The front of the hotel, where the battering-ram was in 
operation, was hid from my view, but I perceived that sev- 
eral enterprising citizens were busily engaged preparing a 
temporary scaffold for my accommodation directly opposite 
my window. 

“They had rigged a block and tackle on a stout limb on 
an oak tree, from which dangled invitingly a noose and 
rope strong enough to have hung an elephant, and were 
now shoving a light road wagon to a position directly be- 
neath. 

44 A huge bonfire near by cast its light upon the excited 
features of the varied throng. 

4 4 Between the fire and the railway a knot of women and 
children had congregated about a lady, who was excitedly 
haranguing them. 

“As the bonfire blazed higher I perceived that this lady 
was none other than the wrathful widow, Mrs. Bibby. 

“Near by stood her lawyer, and at his elbow was a 
slouchy-looking fellow, who I supposed was a constable 
armed with a warrant for my arrest. 


78 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


“The party had evidently followed upon the regular ex- 
press train from Corydon. 

“The smoke and sparks blown from the bonfire suddenly 
swerved toward the crowd about the fiery little widow, 
and, to escape the annoyance, they moved to a position di- 
rectly beneath my window. 

“As the lady walked, however, she kept her glib tongue 
moving, and no resident of Garson will ever forget the 
volleys of indignation the excited little woman from Cory- 
don poured forth against the gay deceiver, murderer, and 
horrid, deep-dyed villain, ‘who so richly deserved the hang- 
ing he was to get, ’ and was now in the big frame hotel 
awaiting it. 

“Despite the truly serious aspect of matters, and the 
possibility that I might be the principal performer in one 
of those American hanging matches which I had so often 
read of, I was highly amused at the scene. 

“In fact, I laughed loud and long at the eccentricities of 
the little widow, as in shrill tones, and gesticulating 
wildly, she taxed her lively imagination to relate deeds in 
illustration of my utter depravity. 

“Suddenly a very ungallant idea struck me. 

“A pitcher of water stood near, on a wash-stand, and 
grasping it by the handle, I hurled its contents from the 
window so that the water, on striking, distributed itself 
between the widow, the constable and the lawyer, the law- 
yer receiving by far the best share of it. 

“The scene that ensued eclipsed the circus. 

“The widow let forth a wild shriek and fell back, sup- 
ported by the two wet men. 

“Every woman in the crowd, following her example, 
seemed to try to outdo her neighbor in the vigor of her 
screams. 

“Then lifting their skirts, and grasping up their chil- 
dren, the entire female portion of the mob ran pell-mell 
toward the railway platform, while such cries as ‘Oh, he’ll 
murder us all ! The murderer is loose ! Heaven save us !’ 
filled the air. 

‘ ‘ The lawyer and constable, shaking the water from their 
dripping hats, assisted the widow along in the rear of the 
frightened swarm of females. 

“She continued the while to shriek at regular intervals, 
her outcries modulating down from the extremely high 
pitch of the first to a hysterical sob. 

“At the very moment that the ungallant pitcher upset 
itself the crash of wood-work and the cracking of flying 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


79 


splinters warned me that an opening had been made by the 
men battering at the hall-way door. 

“The attack on the door, however, was suspended at the 
first series of screams set up by the flying women. 

“Thinking that I had sprung from the window, and was 
committing new deeds of blood in my efforts to escape, the 
large portion of the attacking party hastened from the door 
and about the corner of the hotel toward the bonfire. 

“Others, less eager for my gore, darted away toward the 
platform, of the station, and one broad, burly fellow — 
whom I perceived was the farmer who had so boldly volun- 
teered to get me ready for the rope — actually reached the 
railway before the women did. 

“Nor did his stampeded courage permit him to pause 
here, for far out in the darkness, across the track he flew, 
and as the furthest glimmer of the bonfire’s light died away 
in the direction he took, it showed a pair of extended coat- 
tails.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ESCAPE. 

“When the men learned the cause of the scatterment of 
the women they returned to their assault on the door with 
renewed vigor, ” went on the Scotch detective. 

“ As their blows fell upon the half-demolished barrier, 
and Constable Westbrook’s threats came mingled with 
their shouts of victory, I began in earnest to look out a 
method of escape. 

u Stooping upon my knees, I lit a match, and shielding 
its light with my hand, surveyed the apartment. 

“ It was an ordinary sleeping-rpom, and one of a row 
running from front to rear, on the second story. From 
its size and the depth of the hotel, I calculated that four 
rooms intervened between it and the rear wall of the house. 

“A door, surmounted by a fan-light, joined the apart- 
ments front and back. 

“These doors were locked, and as the bed of the room I 
was in stood closely against the front door, and a table 
near the rear door, I inferred that the entire row of rooms 
had unused connecting doors. 

“Springing upon the table at the rear door, I set to work 
at the fan-light over it with the screw-driver I carried for 
tuning purposes. 


80 \ 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEE. 


“It was the work of an instant to remove the fanlight, 
place it upon the table, and take a survey of the room ad- 
joining. 

“Perceiving that it was dark and empty, I sprang nimbly 
over the door, and alighted safely on the bed against it. 

“The mob had now forced an entrance into the hall- way 
below, and from the noise of the uproar seemed engaged 
in battle with the constable and his men. 

“Again crouching low, I lit a match, and perceived that 
a similar door opened to the room in the rear. 

“Springing upon the table near, I quickly removed the 
fan-light, and in a moment more had safely reached the 
second apartment from my prison. 

“Two rooms now separated me from the rear wall of the 
house. 

“In like manner I reached the third apartment, but to 
my dismay perceived that the last room had a light burn- 
ing within it, and was therefore occupied. 

“My would-be lynchers had now reached the second 
story, and seemed to be driving the constables before them. 

“They would naturally first dash into the room from 
whence the water had descended, and finding the method 
of my escape, advance at once to the lighted apartment to 
head me off. 

“Knowing that I had not a moment to lose, I boldly re- 
moved the intervening fan-light, and, lo ! I perceived a fine, 
fat, baby boy, of some two years, lying in the bed beneath 
me. 

“His bright eyes were wide open, and he appeared 
amused rather than frightened at the uproar which had 
evidently awakened him. 

4 4 He saw me the instant I thrust my head and shoulders 
through the aperture, and was on the point of screaming 
out in terror, when, beaming down on him with the bright- 
est smiles, I said : 

414 Don’t be afraid, wootsy-tootsy baby Johnny! I am 
good Santa Claus, what brings good little boys candies ! 
Mamma told me baby was a good boy, and just see the nice 
candy Santa Claus has brought baby !’ 

44 1 had happened to think of the two huge, barber-pole 
sticks of candy — that unique product of the circus candy- 
butcher’s genius — which I had purchased in the show, that 
Annette might feed them to the elephant on passing forth, 
but which I had not thought of since. 

44 The baby did not seem to comprehend my words farther 
than that I meant him no harm, but when I displayed the 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


81 


great, striped clubs of candy, the little fellow smiled 
sweetly. 

“And when I asked his lordship if I might come in and 
give him the candy he said ‘ Des, ’ very promptly. 

“ I was over the door and upon the bed in a twinkling, 
and just as a loud crash told me that the door of my prison 
room had been burst open, I placed one huge stick of the 
stuff in each of his chubby fists. 

“ He at once endeavored to get both sticks into his mouth 
at once, and became oblivious to all else save his prize. 

“ Planting a kiss upon the little fellow’s forehead I bade 
him be a good boy and eat his candy, and then made a bee 
line for the open window at the rear. 

“ All was dark beneath, and no one in sight. 

“ A friendly branch of a huge birch tree standing near 
touched the sill of the window, and on the instant the 
tumult sounded without the door of the room, and an ax 
fell with a crash upon it, I seized the bough as far out as I 
could reach, and sprang from the window. 

u The branch bent with my weight directly in to the 
trunk of the tree, and down it I slid , without injury, to the 
ground. 

“ Darting backward from the house in the grove of trees, 
I shaped my course so as to give the lively village of Gar- 
son a wide berth, and approached the railway track. 

“Reaching the track I turned upon it toward Corydon. 

“ The moon soon after arose, shedding its light upon the 
rails and sleepers, and I hastened on at a nimble pace, 
thinking of Annette, the dead landlord, the widow, and the 
events of the night in general, and planning my course for 
the future. 

“ Meanwhile, on finding that their game had flown, the 
mob, with many bloody noses and dark-colored eyes, dis- 
persed — leaving the hotel in the hands of Constable West- 
brook and his deputies.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SHARP EYES AND RARE “ WEEDS.” 

“It was long beyond midnight when I reached Corydon,” 
continued the Scotch detective. 

“ I found Tom Bowling, the clerk, alone in the office of 
the hotel. 

“ I dropped in a chair at his side, relate^ to him the ad- 


82 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


ventures of the night, and informed him that I must be 
going eastward on the Atlantic and Great Western morn- 
ing train. 

“ When I spoke of Mrs. Bibby’ s actions at Garson, and 
of the horrid pitcher which had upset itself and sprinkled 
her, the heartless rascal laid back and fairly roared with 
laughter. 

“Suddenly grasping my hand with great warmth, he 
said : 

“‘Sam Josalyn, you’re a benefactor. The little widow 
will never smile on a stranger again, not even if his name 
were Lord John Fitz Morris Montmorency. She likes me 
better than any other fellow in town, and you can bet 
your life, when you come around again you’ll find me 
owning a half interest in this hotel, and Jennie Bibby, as 
Mrs. Tom Bowling, helping to run it !’ 

“ Feeling that I owed Mrs. Bibby an explanation of my 
conduct toward her, I penned her a note explaining all, 
and, with many good wishes, begged her indulgence and 
pardon. 

“ I added, in a postscript, that although I was a detec- 
tive, she could rely upon me not to divulge her little smug- 
gling game in the cigar line, but I trusted ere long she 
would make up her mind to adopt a pleasanter method of 
increasing her revenue, possibly as the wife of some good, 
honest and business-like son of Corydon. 

“This epistle I intrusted to Tom Bowling’s care for de- 
livery. 

“ Tom and I then made a raid on the kitchen of the hotel, 
and though the cooks were yet abed, I succeeded in quiet- 
ing my hunger. 

“ It was now past four in the morning, and as the train I 
proposed to take left the depot at six, I set about preparing 
myself for the journey. 

“ Retiring to my room I bathed, donned a suit of clothes 
which I had never worn in Corydon, adjusted my gold- 
rimmed spectacles and gray wig with care, and descended 
to the office, carrying my overcoat and traveling bag. 

“ So changed was my appearance that Tom Bowling did 
not perceive who the early riser was until I spoke, reveal- 
ing the secret in a jocular manner. 

“ He averred that no one would recognize me, and that 
there was no danger of my being arrested on the way to 
the train. 

“ ‘Fail not to exchange letters with me,’ he said, shaking 
my hand, warmly at parting, ‘and rest assured that they 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


83 


will never get hold of you if I can lead them astray on the 
scent. But keep your eyes peeled at the depot, for a train 
arrives on the P. and E. railway from Garson a few min- 
utes before the train on the A. and G. W. is due going 
east, and the two depots are close together, you know. ’ 

“ Heeding his warning, I hurried away toward the depot. 

“ My plan was to take the A. and G. W. palace sleeping- 
car which ran via Salamanca, and east over the Erie rail- 
way to Elmira, and from this point journey southward on 
the Northern Central railway to Williamsport, through 
which passed the P. and E. railway upon which insensible 
Annette was being hastened eastward in charge of Meg 
Bolard and Billy. 

“I would arrive at Williamsport some hours after the 
train bearing them had continued eastward, and I would 
trace them thence until I had placed Annette safe again in 
my own charge. • 

u As I neared the depot I perceived that the P. and E. 
train, against which Tom Bowling had warned me, had al- 
ready arrived and was discharging its passengers. 

“ It was now broad daylight, but no one was on the 
streets save here and there a straggling railroad hand com- 
ing from or going to his labor. 

“Mrs. Bibby’s home laid in the opposite direction from 
the depot, and I supposed that if she had returned from 
Garson on this train she was already hastening thither. 

“ Consequently a cold shiver ran up my spinal column 
when I suddenly perceived a neat little woman briskly 
cross the railway track in front of the steaming engine, and 
approach directly toward me on the narrow board walk, 
which I was pursuing toward the depot. 

U A glance assured me that the little woman was no 
other than Mrs. Bibby — evidently hurrying toward the 
hotel to vent her troubles in the ears of Tom Bowling’s sis- 
ter, the landlady. 

“ Here was a pretty pickle, for I assure you I had much 
preferred to have met a royal Bengal tiger under the cir- 
cumstances. 

“Barely a hundred yards intervened between us, and did 
I attempt to evade her by altering my course, her suspic- 
ions would be aroused on the instant, and one of her high- 
key shrieks would awake the town. 

u Relying upon my disguise, and altering my features as 
best I could, I walked boldly on in the hope of safely pas- 
sing the threatening danger. 


84 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


“ As the little lady approached closely I perceived that 
she had not gotten over her excitement. 

“ Her bright eyes snapped wickedly, and her little feet 
fell upon the boards of the walk with a rapidity and energy 
which denoted that whatever errand she had in view in 
visiting the hotel, she meant business. 

“At length, when but a few yards separated us, my 
heart began to beat furiously, as if it was ashamed of its 
owner, and was trying to leap from my breast and inform 
the angry little lady that I was the horrid wretch who 
merited punishment at her hands. 

“ I stepped to the edge of the walk, that she might have 
abundant room in passing, and casting down my eyes as if 
to guard against plunging off into the muddy street, kept 
on, believing all was safe. 

“ Alas, such was not the case. 

“ I suddenly felt a little gloved hand dashed rather rudel y 
upon my breast, and pausing abruptly and looking up in 
feigned astonishment, perceived that I was the widow’s 
captive. 

“ ‘Oh, no, indeeddy ! No, no, Mr. Sam Josalyn !’ she cried. 
‘You don’t sneak away from Corydon and from me in that 
way.’ 

“ And the look her flashing eyes bestowed upon me as 
she spoke, had wilted down any one but a truly innocent 
man, or a thoroughly horrid villain. 

“ ‘ Why, my dear madam, what mean you ?’ I exclaimed, 
m a surprised and dignified manner, and assumed voice. 

“‘Oh, you can’t fool me with them spectacles and that 
false wig !’ she cried. 

And she made a grab for the wig, intending, without 
doubt, to loosen it from the careful arrangement I had 
been at some pains to give it upon my head. 

“‘Madam,’ I returned, grasping arid restraining her 
hand, I am Senator John Crowley, of Erie, and am bound 
thither upon the train at the depot. Will you kindly find 
some one to return you to the lunatic asylum from which 
you have evidently escaped, and permit me to catch the 
train?’ 

“‘Senator John Crowley, eh— I know John Crowley, of 
Erie, you villain !’ J ' 

“Then clutching my coat, she fairly screamed : 

Sam Josalyn, you don’t get off so easy! And as for 
getting some one to take me to a lunatic asylum, I’ll soon 
nave you taken to a prison, where you will find time to 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


85 


think over your shameful trifling with me, your murder 
of Bolard, your abduction of — ’ 

“ ‘ Tut, tut ! Stop there, Mrs. Bibby, ’ said I, in my natu- 
ral voice. ‘ You are exciting yourself needlessly, as you 
will see when I inform you that officers of my class are 
forced to assume many roles when looking up evidence 
against those who defraud the government by smuggling, 
and so forth. However, I desire to be courteous in my 
duty, and I will hear what you have to say if you will per- 
mit me, while listening, to smoke one of these genuine 
“ weeds” which you are so good as to import from Havana 
for the hotel. ’ 

“ As I reached for the cigar I brushed aside my coat, dis- 
playing my badge. 

“ On beholding the badge, and realizing that I was a de- 
tective, the fair smuggler loosened her grasp from my coat, 
started back, and gave me one withering glance. 

“ Then, as if a mad bull had suddenly dawned upon her 
gaze, she gathered her skirts about her, and, without a 
word, sailed off toward the hotel, as if her life depended 
on getting away. 

“ Knowing that her feelings would be somewhat soothed 
on receiving the letter at the hotel, I pursued my way to 
the depot in a happier frame of mind. 

“ The east-bound A. and G. W. train soon after arrived, 
and without event I boarded the palace sleeping-car at its 
rear. 

“ As the train moved off I stepped upon the rear platform 
to finish the widow’s fragrant ‘weed,’ which I had fired, 
and think how readily the fair smuggler’s sharp eyes had 
penetrated my disguise. 

“ I felt, as I smoked, that my recent work had not been 
the strict performance of a detective officer, and blamed 
myself somewhat that in my haste to the rescue of An- 
nette I was leaving behind me, unexplained to the proper 
authorities, the death of Bolard. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE DRUGGED GIRL. 

“At ten that night I reached Williamsport,” continued 
the Scotch detective. 

“I set oat at once to learn if the parties ‘wanted’ had 
passed eastward in the train on which they had set forth. 


86 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“ I was directed to the conductor of a sleeping-car which 
had been detached from the morning’s east-bound train 
from Garson, and was now attached to a train about to 
start for the West. 

“I learned from the car’s conductor that a middle-aged 
Irishwoman and a tall, simple-looking man had entered the 
car on the evening previous at Garson, supporting between 
them the form of a heavily vailed girl, whom the Irish- 
woman said was her insane daughter on the way to an asy- 
lum in Harrisburg. 

‘“They paid me,’ he continued, ‘for two state-rooms, 
and ordered them made up immediately, so that they 
might retire. ’ 

“ While the porter made up the left-hand state-room the 
party sat quietly in the one opposite, and as soon as the 
bed was ready the Irishwoman lifted the vailed lady in her 
arms, and placed her in it. 

“ Then bidding the tall fellow go to bed as soon as his 
state-room was ready, she lay down beside the motionless 
girl, and closed the door of the state-room. 

“ The silly fellow seemed to obey her commands as if he 
were her boy, and lay down as she had bidden, as soon as 
his bed was in readiness. 

“ Soon after the train conductor came through, and in 
response to his tap the Irishwoman opened the state-room 
door, peered forth, and asked : 

“ ‘ Who are you ?’ 

“‘The conductor,’ returned that official, extending his 
hand for the ticket. 

“‘Oh, yes,’ she returned. ‘Well, there’s three of us, and 
we do be goin’ to Harrisburg. How much is the fare ?’ 

“‘Twenty-four dollars for three to Sundbury. There 
another conductor takes the train, and you will pay him 
six dollars more. ’ 

“ ‘For three?’ 

“ ‘ Yes, for three.’ 

“She handed him a bill, and he returned her the change, 
and passed on. 

“ She closed the state-room door, and I had almost for- 
gotten about the three strange passengers until some while 
after daylight in the morning, as the train was nearing 
Williamsport, I heard the girl’s voice in the state-room ex- 
claim : 

“‘Oh ! where am I ! Is that you, Fandon?’ 

“‘Is that me who?’ returned the Irishwoman. ‘Sure it’s 
mesilf, yer mother, that’s here wid you, Annette.’ 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


87 


“‘And where are we going on the cars?’ 

“ ‘ Away out of the reach of that villain ye call Fandon. 
And how did ye come to know him so well as to call him 
Fandon?’ 

“‘Who?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Why, that imp of an organ-tuner ye brought wid ye 
from Corydon last night. ’ 

“‘Didn’t Billy tell you his name was Fandon?’ 

“ ‘ And did you hear him ?’ 

“‘How would I know his name, if some one hadn’t told 
me he would take me away with him?’ 

“‘Och, poor child ! ye’ve been imaginin’ strange things. 
Sure, ye were so excited whin you came to me room last 
night at whativer it was that you fainted complately away 
just as I was givin’ ye a sup of the new coffee. And the 
father said it was a touch of the brain fever ye had. Hurry 
up and begone wid her, sez he, and take Billy wid you, sez 
he, and travel ye right East wid her, to some good doctor, 
if you find she nades it. And, above all, sez he, kape her 
out of the way of that devil of a tuner, sez he, for faith, 
sez he, I believe he’s charmed the poor crature. And 
doin’ as he bade me, me daughter, I’m takin’ ye on a visit 
to New York.’ 

“‘And is Billy with you?’ 

“‘Yis, and aslape ferninst us in a rattletrap box like 
this. ’ 

“ ‘ But you don’t mean to harm me ? You aren’t angry 
with me, are you V 

‘“Now, luk at that — luk at that. What shud put such 
nonsense in yer head? Was it to harm ye, now I’ve rared 
ye from a baby till ye be a little lady fit for a king’s wife? 
But it’s to kape ye away from that villain of a tuner that 
I’m determined.’ 

“‘What did he do?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ What did he do ? Nothing. ’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ But he only came with me to tune the organ. ’ 

“‘The vagabond !’ 

“‘And where is he now?’ 

“‘To ould Nick, his father, I hope !’ 

‘“Well, don’t let us speak of him any more.’ 

“‘That’s right, me daughter — forget the villain. I’ll see 
that he sha’n’t bring you to harm.’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Oh, I feel so sick and light-headed. ’ 

“‘And well you might, me daughter, but we’ll soon be 
where the train breakfasts, and there you shall take a 
good, strong cup of tea and a foine hot meal. ’ 


88 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“‘When the porter had routed all hands up to take 
breakfast and change cars at Williamsport,’ continued the 
sleeping-car conductor, ‘ I passed the open door of the Irish 
woman’s section, and perceived her washing the face of 
her charge with a wet towel, much as a mother would do 
that of a child. ’ 

“‘The girl was strikingly beautiful, and, unmannerly as 
it certainly was, I stood stock-still for a moment gazing at 
her. ’ 

“‘Perceiving this, the Irishwoman, with an angry leer, 
shut the state-room door, and when the party left the car 
at Williamsport the young lady was deeply vailed, as she 
was on last night. ’ 

“‘She, however, tripped lightly along, and did not seem 
to be either sick or insane. ’ 

“‘And, taking everything into consideration.’ added the 
conductor, ‘ I made up my mind that some mystery sur- 
rounded the trip of those three passengers, and, in fact, I 
expected to hear of a detective, or some one. following 
them up. And you are a detective, are you not?’ 

“‘I am,’ I responded, ‘and I have been much aided by 
thus meeting you. Tell me, did the party continue east- 
ward upon the same train?’ 

“‘They did.’ 

“At that moment the train moved off, and, as the SO’ 
ciable trainman sprang on board, I slipped a ten-dollar bill 
in his hand and waved him adieu.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

DOCTOR MACY AND THE RAJAH. 

“The rest is easily told,” continued the Scotch detective. 
“I traced Meg, ‘Silly’ Billy, and Annette here to New 
York, and here I have since hunted for them as best I 
could, considering that I am ‘wanted’ in Western Penn- 
sylvania to answer the charge of murder, and I have had 
to keep ‘ shady. ’ 

“Come, Bobe,” he added, swinging his chair about to 
face Bridger, “you are better posted in regard to these 
American cities than I, tell me then where think you is 
Annette to-night ?” 

“The only basis we have to go on that I see,” returned* 
Bridger, “is our discovery of ‘Silly’ Billy in the role of a 
footpad to-nighti But if it is as the Pullman car conductor 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


89 


said, that Bill obeys Meg Bolard’s will like a dog, it would 
seem to follow that she has sent him forth to steal. Per- 
haps, not hearing from her husband, she fears that her 
money may run short ; or, very likely, ‘she has hired se- 
cluded apartments from some member of the criminal 
class, who is filching from her a large hush-money rent. ” 

“Then we must take a look about through the city’s 
thieves’ ‘kens,’ and find if we can what ‘crooked’ people 
might have such apartments to let — eh, Bobe ?” 

“I would think so,” said Bridger. 

“ God bless you, yes, boys !” exclaimed Dr. Macy, gazing 
at the miniature of his daughter, which he still held in his 
hand. “You must look everywhere, and pause not until 
Annette is safe. Alas, how hard it is to think that the 
sweet child is this night an inmate of a thieves’ den, and 
that I, wretched man, am the cause of it all. But I know 
that you will find her for me, boys — for surely God’s 
mercy is evident that I am here to know that she lives, 
and that two such detectives are bent on her rescue. 

“I promise you each five thousand dollars, boys,” he 
added, wiping the moisture from his eyes, “ if you bring 
the dear girl to my arms in safety. ” 

“ Then that makes your reward, Bobe, just ten thousand 
dollars,” said the Scotch detective, “and my reward shall 
be Annette, eh, doctor ?” 

“ If she loves you, Detective Fandon, I will interpose no 
objection to your happiness,” returned Dr. Macy. “Ah, I 
have learned wisdom in that regard from the case of Al- 
fonse and Alice.” 

“That reminds me,” quoth the Scotch detective. “You 
have not as yet told us of your wanderings on leaving Eng- 
land, or how you happened to meet Annette’s father, Al- 
fonse, whom you say still lives. ” 

“It is a roundabout tale, v returned the doctor, “but if 
you can find patience to listen to it, I will tell it to you. 

“On that cruel day,” he began, “when in foolish, crimi- 
>nal anger I left England, I sailed directly for Australia. 

: ‘‘There I remained for years, squandering my fortune 
> aimlessly, and leading a fast life. 

“At length, becoming broken down from drink, I re- 
solved to taste liquor no more, and from that day I have 
not done so until to-night. 

“ Leaving Australia, I visited other countries, and finally 
brought up in India almost penniless. 

“ In Madras I began the practice of medicine — for a time 
with little success. 


90 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“ In fact, my practice was in the role of an assistant of 
a resident English physician. 

“ One day a pressing request came to him from a rich 
rajah, whose possessions lay far in the interior. 

The rajah was afflicted with a large tumor in his neck, 
which was fast growing in size, and his messenger begged 
that the doctor would repair with him to his master’s pal- 
ace and remove it. 

u From the messenger’s statement of the case it pre- 
sented at best a very difficult surgical operation. 

A long and fatiguing journey, at the expense of val- 
uable time and possible health, was necessary to reach the 
royal patient. 

“ T . hen > the operation, in an unpropitious clime for 
surgical experiments, prove abortive or fatal, the operator’s 
life might pay the forfeit. 

The doctor, therefore, promptly refused to go, but re- 
commended me as his assistant, and one perfectly compe- 
tent to perform the needed operation. 

Feeling that it would retrieve my shattered fortunes if 
I succeeded, and that the possible assassination which 
might follow failure would only end a wrecked life, I at 
once accepted the proffered commission and accompanied 
the messenger on the long journey to his afflicted master. 

I found the rajah surrounded by all the pomp of roy- 
alty, and perceived that living as he did, remote from the 
central points of English power, his authority was as ab- 
solute in his domains as that of any prince might be over 
his subjects. 

He was a very intelligent man, however, and readily 
submitted to all my directions regarding the operation. 

A room in the palace was cooled by large fans operated 
by natives, and causing a continual flow of air. 

The bed upon which the rajah must remain until the 
wound caused by the operation should heal, was placed in 
this apartment. 

“ A cot was placed near it upon which the operation was 
to be performed. 

I selected six of his strongest blacks as my assistants, 
and excluded all others from the apartment save the royal 
patient and myself. 

“All things being so prepared, on the second day after 
my arrival I administered chloroform, and in a few min- 
utes successfully removed the huge, scrofulous tumor, and 
dressed the wound. 

“ The rajah was placed comfortably upon his bed, and 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


91 


when the effects of the anaesthetic had worn away, and he 
returned to consciousness, a maid stood near with a steam- 
ing bowl of coffee, which I ordered him to drink. 

“ He was surprised to find how easily he breathed, for 
for months his breath had been drawn by the most painful 
effort, and when I showed him, in a mirror, that nothing 
remained of the malady, save the carefully bandaged 
wound from which the ponderous tumor had been taken, 
his delight knew no bounds, and he declared that I should 
never quit his domain, but remain the richest and most 
privileged of his courtiers. 

“ He soon entirely recovered, and to prove his gratitude 
gave me a palatial bungalow upon the royal grounds, and 
a complete retinue of servants, who obeyed my every beck. 

“ He also presented me diamonds and jewels to the value 
of many thousand pounds. 

“ My aim now was to escape from his rule with these rich 
movables, return to England, find my daughter, and make 
amends for the cruelty I had practiced upon her in my rage. 

“My departure was not to be easily accomplished, for 
the rajah, although treating me at all times with the 
greatest kindness, had firmly determined that my remain- 
ing near to administer to his ailments was a necessity due 
himself. 

“ His people, from the highest to the lowest, knew his 
will, and not being permitted to communicate with the 
agents of the British Government, or to dispatch any mes- 
sages or letters whatever, I was, after all, but a captive, 
though dwelling in princely splendor. 

“ For eight long years I remained without favorable op- 
portunity to escape, and although I was aging rapidly 
under the restraint, I never gave over my hope of making 
my way, ultimately, from the rajah’s domains 

“ I knew that an assumption of contentment would best 
put him off his guard, and abet my aim. 

“I, therefore, learned the language perfectly, and ap- 
peared gay and jovial at his entertainments, and at all 
times. 

“ At length my opportunity came. 

“ His stable was located some five leagues distant from 
his palace, at the edge of a smooth, grassy plain. 

“ His favorite horse had been afflicted with a disease in 
one of his forelegs, which resembled elephantasis in man, 
and the rajah asked me if I might not be able to perform 
an operation upon the animal’s swollen member, and re- 
cover it to its proper form. 


92 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEE. 


“I at once assured him that I could do so. 

“ A time was set for my departure for the stable, and 
secreting my diamonds about me, I entered the waiting 
palanquin, and bade the sturdy blacks who bore it, and 
the score of relief bearers and servants, who formed my 
retinue, to proceed. 

“ It was evening when I reached the stable, and accom- 
panied by the rajah’s chief groom, I at once visited the 
ailing horse. 

“ Informing the chief groom that it would be necessary 
to keep the swollen leg tied about with a bandage saturated 
with ointment for a number of hours ere the operation 
might be attempted, I prepared a simple balsam, and bade 
the stablemen bind it carefully about the diseased limb. 

“ I was then shown where I was to lodge in the chief 
groom’s bungalow, and was afterward served with a relish- 
able meal. 

“I then requested that the finest animals in the rajah’s 
stable should be shown to me. 

“ I spoke of the grandly bred horses of England, inti- 
mated that I was an enthusiast in horseflesh, and that 
nothing suited me better than a swift gallop in the evening 
air. 

“ And, finally, I requested that a particularly fine and 
spirited horse, which the chief groom showed me, should 
be saddled that I might enjoy a canter upon his back. 

“The rajah’s chief horseman was delighted at my knowl- 
edge of horseflesh and the interest and praise I lavished 
upon his stable, for I had promised that, on my return to 
the palace, I would commend him highly to his royal mas- 
ter. 

“ He was only too willing that I should mount the noble 
steed I had desired saddled, but as the blacks led forth the 
fiery animal, he feared that so aged a man as myself had 
better mount a less fractious horse. 

“His fear I offset by assuring him that, old though I 
was, I was an expert rider, and that the high mettle shown 
by the restless and prancing steed suited me exactly. 

“He then pointed out to me the direction I might safely 
ride, and cautioned me against going far upon the road 
leading from the edge of the plain, as it was coming night, 
and I might become lost in the jungle, and a prey to wild 
beasts. 

“I assured him that I would heed his advice, and while 
the sturdy blacks exerted all their powers to hold steady 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


93 


the spotted horse, aided by the chief groom, I mounted to 
the saddle, and took the bridle in hand. 

“ As soon as the blacks let go their hold of his head the 
noble horse darted away like the wind. 

“Fortunately for me, I can ride, and, moreover, had 
carefully studied the lay of the country. 

“ I knew that if I might traverse some fifty leagues to 
the southward without accident I would reach a river upon 
whose banks a party of enterprising Englishmen were 
washing for diamonds, and I was resolved that the flying 
steed beneath me should bear me there. 

“ For three leagues across the plain, and along the path- 
way through the jungle, the gallant animal bore me with- 
out a break in his mad gallop. 

“Then easing down to a gentle lope, when his outburst 
of play had spent itself, he carried me on at a steady gait 

“The moon arose soon after nightfall, and the calls of 
wild beasts sounded at intervals from the jungle near by, 
but I pushed on safely through the night. 

“At dawn in the morning I paused, for several hours, to 
water the now jaded steed, and permit him to eat a break- 
fast of grass, and that evening I reached the mining camp, 
told my story, and was kindly welcomed. 

“The next day I started back my faithful charger, 
equipped with bridle and saddle, in the direction he had 
brought me, and there is little doubt but that the noble 
animal accomplished the journey alone, and appeared 
riderless to the astonishment of the chief groom. 

“And, I suppose, that both the chief groom and his mas- 
ter, the rajah, to this day mourn my death, believing that 
I lost my way in the jungle, and had dismounted to be torn 
to pieces by lurking beasts. 

“Aided in my escape by the diamond hunters, and 
changed in my apparel to resemble one of their class, I 
found no difficulty in completing my journey to Madras. 

“I found, on arriving there, however, that my old friend, 
the doctor, had died ; nor did any one recognize me, so 
great had been the change in the European population. 

“ Disposing of several of my brilliants for some two thou- 
sand pounds, I clothed myself as an English gentleman, 
and took apartments, awaiting the departure of a steamer 
for England.” 


94 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE INK MARK ON THE SAILOR’S BREAST. 

“One evening,” continued Dr. Macy, “while rolling upon 
the beach and enjoying the cooling breeze from the ocean, 
I chanced upon a number of wharf-workers bathing. 

“As I gazed toward them they seemed to become sud- 
denly excited, and I perceived that one of their number 
had ventured forth too far in the breakers, and was drown- 
ing. 

“Two sturdy blacks swam forth to the man’s rescue, and 
succeeded in bringing him to shore. 

“Approaching where they had laid his unconscious form 
upon the beach, I informed them that I was a physician, 
and they made way that I might view the rescued man. 

“I saw at a glance that he was a European, although his 
thin features were tanned brown from contact beneath the 
tropical sun. 

“I also thought that I had seen the man somewhere be- 
fore. 

“Directing the men how to proceed in his resuscitation, 
I observed them carefully as they did my bidding. 

“In handling the rescued man one of the blacks by ac- 
cident tore aside the rough shirt which clung to his breast, 
and I perceived that the trade-mark of the sailor — a charac- 
ter in red and blue ink — was wrought upon his breast. 

“He now breathed freely, and, dispatching one of the 
blacks to procure a dram of brandy, I directed that he 
should be laid upon his back in the sand. 

“Stooping over him, I pulled aside the shirt, and, out 
of curiosity, inspected the ink-mark upon his breast. 

‘ ‘ How great was my amazement to find that it consisted 
of two English flags wrought in a border to surround the 
name, ‘Alfonse Godot.’ 

“I studied the man’s features carefully, and although 
illness and hardship had altered them greatly, I perceived 
that without doubt they were those of my former coach- 
man, Alfonse. 

“I thought, if Alice’s husband was here before me, a 
poor, sick sailor in a foreign land, what, alas ! had been 
her fate ? 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


95 


“Possibly the man at my feet had tired of his wife on 
finding that her father had left her to her fate, and deserted 
her — and the surmise caused my blood to boil in kindling 
anger. 

“But the bent of my mind had changed, and realizing 
that I myself was the direct cause of all the troubles that 
had befallen Alfonse and Alice, I resolved to be the res- 
cued man’s friend come what would. 

“At least from his lips I would learn something that I 
yet knew not concerning the outcast daughter who had 
again become my sole thought, my life’s aim, and my 
heart’s idol. 

* “I ordered the reviving man conveyed to my own apart- 
ment, and placed upon my own bed. 

“Under the stimulus of the dram of brandy he speedily 
recovered consciousness, and making myself known to him, 
I begged him to tell me the fate of his wife, Alice. 

“‘Alas ! Dr. Macy, I know not,’ the poor fellow said 
when he had become assured that I was his old master, 
and promised friend. ‘ Alice and I lived happily while our 
means lasted, and even when we found that you had left 
us to our fate, we hoped that my father would aid us. The 
hope proved vain, and I was forced to behold my gentle 
wife and the tender babe in her arms suffering from want. 

‘“In my quest for employment I one day mot a man who 
spoke to me kindly and offered to procure me a situation 
in a match factory. 

“‘We then entered a porter-house at his solicitation, and 
I drank some beer — and the next that I knew I was on 
board a sail ship, and far out to sea. 

“‘How can I express in words the thoughts that racked 
my brain when I perceived that I had been drugged, kid- 
napped, shipped as a common sailor, and realized that my 
starving wife and child were there behind in the cruel 
streets of London, without a friend. 

“ ‘ I begged the captain to return me upon passing ships, 
but he only gave me grog and put me to work. 

“‘The ship was bound for Calcutta. From thence she 
sailed to China ; thence to San Francisco ; thence again to 
China, and thence for England. 

“‘I had been three years upon her, had a goodly sum of 
money due me, and looked forward prayerfully in hope of 
reaching home and England once more. 

“‘Alas for my hope ! The ship was driven in a hurricane 
upon an island in the Pacific Ocean, and five seamen, I of 
the number, were alone saved from the wreck. 


96 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEB. 


“From this island we were taken by a ship bound for 
Madras. 

‘ ‘ On arriving here I stated my case to the British Con- 
sul, but he would do nothing for me. Meanwhile I could 
obtain no chance to ship as a salior, for my lungs had be- 
come affected, and I was too weak to do duty as a seaman. 
And here, among the blacks upon the wharves, I have re- 
mained, earning my existence, and dying by inches. 

“On thinking over all my woes,” the poor fellow added, 
“I resolved this day to end my misery at once. If I might 
not meet wife and child in this world, I trusted that there 
was another beyond where I might at least learn their fate. 
And thus resolved, I swam boldly away from my black 
companions in the breakers, and, but for them, had now 
been dead.” 

“Although wasted and weak from a confirmed long dis- 
order, ” continued Dr. Macy, “Alfonse’s condition improved 
somewhat under treatment, and a few days subsequent to 
our strange meeting we sailed together for London, praying 
and hoping against reason, to find Alice and her child some- 
how providentially preserved, and safe to greet us. 

“Arriving in London we sought an inspector of police, 
and begged that the records might be searched in the hope 
that the charities and corrections had taken the poor starv- 
ing girl and her babe in their charge. 

“The inspector informed us of Jean Godot’s death, and 
of the letter which had been accepted in lieu of his will and 
that Alfonse need only prove that he was Jean Godot’s son 
to come into legal possession of the estate left by his father. 

“Videre, he said, was at the time engaged in building a 
race-track upon one of the farms where he kept a stable of 
thoroughbred race-horses, and he advised Alfonse to lose 
no time in notifying him and the proper authorities of his 
return. 

“He then told us that he feared that Alice was dead, and 
that he had understood that her babe was being reared, in 
ignorance of its parentage, by a family called Bolard, who 
had emigrated to America. 

“When we pressed him for further information his words 
were : 

“‘The truth is, there is an air of criminal mystery en- 
shrouding the death of Jean Godot, and implicating the 
Bolards. You will, therefore, mention to no one that you 
have called here, as it might retard your own interests, 
and our efforts. A detective, in whom we have every re- 
liance, is now in America on the trail of the Bolard family, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


97 


and the girl. Our instructions are sent to him through the 
office of the British Minister at Washington, and I will at 
once inform him regarding this new feature in the case, the 
arrival in London of Alfonse Godot and Dr. Macy. ’ 

“On departing from Scotland Yard we mutually resolved 
that while I should set forth at once for New York and find 
the detective of whom the inspector spoke, Alfonse should 
remain for a time in England, to lay claim to his father’s 
estate, and then join me in America, in the search for his 
daughter. 

“Disposing of my diamonds, I supplied him with ample 
funds, and taking what I deemed needful in my pocket, I 
deposited the remainder in bank, and sailed for New York, 
instructing Alfonse that on his arrival in that city he would 
learn my address by visiting the British Consul there resi- 
dent. 

“On arriving here I took apartments at the St. Nicholas 
Hotel, and at once wrote to the British Minister at Wash- 
ington for information. 

“Some days afterward I received a reply from his secre- 
tary, stating that although he was in receipt of several let- 
ters addressed to the Scotland Yard man who was trailing 
the Bolard family, he had not heard from him for several 
weeks, but on doing so would promptly inform me as to his 
whereabouts* 

“Since then,” added Dr. Macy, “I have anxiously awaited 
the promised tidings fruitlessly, until this night I followed 
the young woman whom I foolishly thought might prove 
to be Annette, to be assaulted and robbed on the street, 
and to find myself, in the providence of Heaven, here. ” 

“I have been too neglectful of late,” exclaimed the Scotch 
detective, as Dr. Macy concluded. “I must at once tele- 
graph the British Minister at Washington, and have those 
letters forwarded to me. Shall I have them sent to this 
number and in your care, Bobe ?” 

“Certainly, if you choose,” returned Bridger. 

“But,” he added, pointing to the clock on the mantel 
shelf, “it is now beyond midnight, and the British Minis- 
ter is where we must soon be, if we hope to do anything 
on the morrow, in bed. ” 

As he spoke Bridger arose, opened forth a sofa bed, drew 
it near the fire, placed pillows and bed-clothing upon it, 
and informed the Scotch detective that it awaited their 
joint use. 

Dr. Macy insisted upon returning to his rooms in the 
hotel, but the two detectives would not hear of it, and lead- 


98 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


ing the old man to his own bedroom adjoining, Bridger 
bade him turn in. 

“God bless you, my brave boys,” was the old man’s good- 
night benediction, “I will do whatever you command.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

HAWK AND HAWK. 

Early on the subsequent morning the three men arose 
from their slumbers. 

All were in fine spirits, and Dr. Macy pronounced him- 
self in splendid health, and only suffering from a soreness 
in the region of the throat, as a reminder of the past 
night’s assault. 

Bridger prevailed on the Scotch detective to cast aside 
his gray wig and spectacles. 

He assured him that the vague description of Sam Josa- 
lyn, as telegraphed by the Corydon authorities, had long 
since drifted from the thoughts of the ever busy New 
York detectives, if indeed it had ever reached them — and 
that, being in his company, nothing was to be feared. 

At sunrise the two detectives accompanied Dr. Macy 
to his hotel, and breakfasted with him. 

Then bidding the old gentleman content himself within 
doors, nurse his sore neck, not follow any more girls, or 
get into any fresh scrapes, the sleuth-hounds returned to 
Bridger’s rooms, and changed their apparel. 

The Scotch detective wrote a note to Tom Bowling, the 
Corydon hotel clerk, inclosing a letter addressed to “Mrs. 
Margaret Bolard, New York city,” which he requested him 
to mail at that point, and then penned a telegram to the 
British Minister at Washington, asking that his mail be 
forwarded in Bridger’s care. 

When the two detectives again descended to the street 
they wore blue woolen shirts, resembling in manner and 
appearance two sturdy wharfmen. 

After dispatching the letter and telegram, the Scotch de- 
tective and Bridger, following the plan they had determined 
on pursuing, visited a score of the lowest thieves’ resorts 
and dives, in New York. 

The rough round they made could not be successfully ac- 
complished without drinking some, and early in the day 
the sleuth-hounds assumed to be intoxicated, that there 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


99 


might appear reason for their tasting lightly of the mugs 
of beer they everywhere ordered. 

The regular detectives of the New York force are well 
known to the resident criminal classes, but the Scotch de- 
tective and Bridger, being strangers, passed unsuspected. 

Many attempts were made during the day to entice the 
tipsy wharfmen where they might be robbed, and they 
learned much of special interest to the New York force. 

Nothing transpired, however, until late in the afternoon, 
upon which the detectives could hang the shadow of a 
hope that they had found a clew to the whereabouts of 
1 4 Silly” Billy, Meg, and Annette. 

Late in the afernoon, as they sauntered carelessly along 
in the Bowery, gaping in countrified ignorance at every 
thing and everybody, a tall, handsomely formed man of 
forty passed them. 

His clothing was after the English type, and rather 
flashy, and the man seemed to be intoxicated. 

Upon his shirt-front he sported a diamond, and a watch 
chain dangled from the fob pocket of his trousers. 

His features were decidedly those of a shrewd, vicious 
sport. 

His eyes were full, leering, sensuous, his mouth shapen 
for the flowing bowl, and his beard neatly rounded about 
his bloated face after the manner of an English turfman. 

“His lordship surely hails from England,” said Bridger, 
as the man passed. 

“Surely,” returned the Scotch detective, “and I have 
certainly seen his features before — where, I can’t say. Sup- 
pose we stroll with him ?” 

Half a block distant, upon the corner, stood two young 
men. 

Both were fashionably dressed. 

One was a short, compactly built human bull-dog, who 
sported a very high shirt-collar and a shoe-brush mustache. 

The second was a slender, wiry human rat. 

That both had worn striped clothing, and were thieves, 
the detectives believed without further introduction, but 
they afterward learned that the gentleman first mentioned 
was “Tom, the Frog,” a well-known burglar, and that the 
sharp-eyed young man, his companion, was u Jack, the 
Fork, ” an equally well-known pickpocket. 

They had, however, “tied up prigging” in their respec- 
tive lines, and were now working a new “racket.” 

This game, from its peculiar nature, and a judicial ap- 
plication of knowledge concerning police patronage, which 


100 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


they had learned in passing through the mill, enabled them 
to dwell for the time in clover, and in the enjoyment of as 
much peace and safety as the grocer dealing out his sanded 
sugars. 

Both of these gentlemen were well-known to the police, 
and their portraits adorned the Rogues’ Gallery in Mul- 
berry street. 

As the inebriated Englishman passed this pair of corner 
liquor store beauties he glanced very shrewdly toward 
them, then turned down the cross street directly by them. 

“Tom, the Frog,” was first to perceive the sport, who. as 
he progressed upon the side street, seemed to be much more 
intoxicated than when on the Bowery. 

“Inkle the nazy,” remarked “Tom, the Frog,” nudging 
his rat-eyed companion and nodding his head in the direc- 
tion of the staggering man. 

The Englishman had proceeded but a dozen steps from 
where the two men stood, and as soon as “Jack, the Fork,” 
saw the “game” he hastened in his direction. 

“Tom, the Frog,” stood still, watching the outcome of 
his companion’s venture. 

Meanwhile the two sleuth-hounds had reached the corner, 
and appeared to be so much under the weather from drink 
that their chief aim seemed to be to keep each other from 
falling down. 

From the Englishman’s actions they felt assured that he, 
like them, was shamming intoxication, that he knew the 
character of the men he had passed on the corner, and that 
he was placing himself in their way for a purpose. 

The two thieves had evidently accepted him as a first- 
class “drunk,” worthy of a run through their “racket.” 

It was, therefore, not a case of hawk and sparrow, but of 
hawk and hawk. 

As he approached the tipsy stranger the “roper” stepped 
nimbly forward and slapped him familiarly on the back. 

The Englishman paused, turned about, looked inquir- 
ingly into the “roper’s” shrewd, smiling face, and me- 
chanically grasped the hand which that worthy held forth 
with all the assurance of an old acquaintance. 

“Well, well! ha, ha, ho, old boy! is here wdiere I find 
you?” exclaimed “Jack, the Fork.” “By the way, what the 
duse are you doing in this part of town, you know ?” 

“Well — that is— hie !” returned the apparently astonished 
drunkard. “Excuse me, ye know — but, pray, where have 
I met you before ?” 

The man spoke in a strange, high-keyed, squeaking voice, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


101 


and as he heard it the Scotch detective almost forgot his 
roll of a “lush,” and started forward impulsively in his di- 
rection. 

Grasping him by the coat-tail, Bridger pulled him back 
and warned him to keep his senses. 

“Bobe,” whispered the Scotch detective, “I thought his 
features were familiar, and now that squeaking voice. 
What if he proves to be the ‘ Squealer ?’ ” 

“If he does, it’s a great ‘ lay, ’ and worth care and patience. 
But what would bring him over the ocean ?” 

“What brought the Bolards here? But we’ll find out 
what or who he is. ” 

“You don’t mean to say you don’t know me?” continued 
the roper. “No kidding now — look me square in the face.” 

The Englishman did so, and said : 

“Well — hie — ye know, me friend — at all events I’m a 
gentleman, and I would — hie — dislike to say to a gentleman 
of your appearance, who' says he has met me, that his looks 
impressed me so commonly that I have forgotten him. ” 

“Well, I’ll be hanged — do you forget?” 

“Not ’zactly — but can’t — hie — say that I quite remem- 
ber. ” 

“Then I must jog your memory?” 

1 1 If you — hie — please. ” 

“Why, then — can it be possible that you don’t remember ? 
Not an hour ago, in the Broadway liquor store, we had a 
drink, and talked about our meeting on the steamer coming 
over.” 

“The steamer — hie — eh? Did you come over on the 
Queen with me ?” 

“Did I come over with you on the Queen ? What a ques- 
tion ! Why, confound it, man, don’t you know I came over 
on the Queen with you ?” 

“Did, eh?” 

“Why, of course.” 

“In the cabin?” 

“In the cabin? Certainly! Didn’t we eat at the same 
table ? Didn’t we smoke and chat together nights in the 
smoking-room aft? But, ha ! ha ! pardon me — I see what’s 
the matter. You’re a little how-come-you-so, you know, 
you rascal, and forget 1” 

“No, no — only — hie — celebrating my safe arrival — ’at’s 
all.” 

“Then take a friend’s advice. New York is a bad city; 
don’t drink another drop, and be very careful with whom 
you keep company.” 


102 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“That’s good advice, me— friend— and I— hie— s’pose 
you belong to the young men’s society?” 

“No, I confess I should, but I don’t. Ma and pa are 
very moral people, however, but I am somewhat of a back- 
slider, and own up to taking a tipple once in a while my- 
self.” 

“Do, eh?” 

“Frequently— and fact is, I’m so glad to meet you, you 
old rascal, that if you wasn’t so dused full, you know, I’d 
ask you to take a bitter now. ” 

“Full be blowed ! I’ll join you’ n— hie— minute. Come, 
let’s take a drink !” 

“But are you sure you can stand one?” 

“Stand it certain. Where’ll we go?” 

“Well, only one. This is the last, remember. Come this 
way. ” 

Thereupon the two men turned into a lager beer saloon 
from the sidewalk. 

As they did so, “Tom, the Frog,” who had remained an 
interested spectator upon the corner, suddenly buttoned 
his coat about him, and walked briskly away up the 
Bowery. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

IN GOUCHER’S DEN. 

The saloon which the Englishman and the “roper” had 
entered was kept by a fat German, one of the non-inquisi- 
tive kind, and into it, a moment later, the two tipsy labor- 
ing men staggered. 

The Englishman and the roper had seated themselves at 
a table, and were being furnished with beer. 

To a second table, not far distant, the two detectives 
navigated, and as tney dropped into chairs, Bridger threw 
a handful of loose coin on the board, and called loudly for 
two beers, and two ham sandwiches. 

Bidding the drunken wharfmen to be less demonstrative 
the fat landlady proceeded to supply their wants. 

The landlord, and his two customers at the other table, 
glanced at the two laboring men, but as they had subsided 
to sullen silence they evidently set them down as two 
“lushes,” soon to be bounced. 

As the landlord placed the beers before the “roper” and 
the Englishman, the latter, against the remonstrance of 
the “roper,” paid for the liquid, 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


103 


As he did so he carelessly exhibited a goodly roll of bills, 
which “Jack, the Fork,” noted. 

“And now, be the way,” sail the “roper,” using the 
cockney drawl. “Hang it all ! it’s me, me friend, who’s for- 
getting, now. Let me see — what is your first name ?” 

“Never mind that — hie — me friend,” was the answer. 
“I’d rather not say, if it’s the same to you. You see, 
I’ve had a trifle of ill-luck lately. Not broke — hie — but — 
but—” 

“But what, me friend?” 

“I’d — hie — between you and I, be willing to raise the 
wind in any sort of a half safe way.” 

This was spoken in a whisper. 

“Then shake l” returned the “roper,” grasping the tipsy 
man’s hand in a very enthusiastic manner. “You are me 
friend, and I am yours. We’ve met be chance, ’tis true ; 
but I have a noble racket on hand, and I’m thinkin’ you’ll 
find we’ve met just right. Pst ! landlord, two beers.” 

The fat landlord waddled toward the table, bearing the 
fluid called for. 

The drunken wharfmen near by were making some of the 
most hideous grimaces ever witnessed, to the amusement 
of the landlady, in their efforts at demolishing the sand- 
wiches, but were withal, very quiet for “lushes.” 

In payment for the ordered beers “Jack, the Fork,” ten- 
dered a crisp new ten-dollar bill. 

The fat lager vender objected, eyed the bill suspiciously, 
and asked his patron if he had not smaller change. 

“Oh — hie — blow the animated sausage !” exclaimed the 
Englishman, delving into his pockets. ‘ ‘ Let me pay for it. ” 

“Not at all. I always make it a rule to hold me end up 
as a gentleman,” returned the “roper,” grandly. “Can’t 
you send that bill out to a bank, and have it changed ?” 

“Veil, if I must. I must,” returned the clumsy beer ven- 
der, shambling away. “Here, Christina, go by de money 
proker on de corner and get shange.” 

Christina did as commanded by her liege lord, and soon 
returned with the required change. 

In the interim the tipsy Englishman had ventured to in- 
quire the nature of the “racket” proposed. 

“When we drink our beer, and I get my change, I’ll take 
you where you can see for yourself, ” returned the ‘ ‘ roper. ” 

“Soon after the two men quitted the saloon arm in arm, 
and “Jack, the Fork,” led toward Christie street. 

Two drunken laborers followed them. 


104 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEB, 


“ Did you notice that bill I gave the Dutchman?” asked 
the “roper.” 

“Yes, and — hie — he looked at it as if he thought it bad, 
me friend.” 

“And so it was.” 

“Then we’ll be getting into trouble about it.” 

“Nonsense ! I’ve passed a dozen of them to-day, and my 
pockets are lined with them now. ” 

“Well — hie — me friend I’ll tell you it’s too dangerous a 
‘ racket’ to suit my taste. ” 

“Bah ! the bills are made from stolen government plates 
on stolen government paper. They are correctly num- 
bered, and I defy the United States treasurer himself to 
say that they are not genuine. ” 

“I’m afraid, me friend, you’re flattering the goods too 
much.” 

“Not a bit of it. I’ve shoved over five thousand dollars 
of the stuff the past two months, and have never heard a 
squeal. And I’ve got to go around now for more.” 

“You don’t — hie — sell it yourself, do you?” 

“No, but I’ll take you, me friend, where it’s made.” 

“What’s ’e percentage to be made on it?” 

“Great ; you get five dollars of the queer for every dollar 
you put out. ” 

“Then, if I should put up five hundred — ” 

“You’d get twenty-five hundred, shove that, and so on to 
fortune. ” 

By this time the two men had turned up Christie street 
and reached Delaney. 

Dropping back to a safe distance, when they had learned 
the “racket” to which the “roper” was steering, the sleuth- 
hounds lost the further conversation of the twain. 

For quite a distance to the eastward, on Delaney street, 
“Jack, the Fork,” led his companion, and suddenly disap- 
peared with him, in a hall-way adjoining a gloomy looking 
liquor store. 

Throwing aside their drunkenness the detectives hastened 
briskly on, and in a minute more entered at the same door. 

They found themselves in a dark and narrow hall-way, 
and at the foot of a pair of stairs. 

The hum of voices came from the bar-room near, and 
from the floor above. 

Looking to their pistols, they softly ascended the stair- 
way. 

Reaching the floor above they perceived that they were 
in a dark hall- way, at the rear of which was built a neces- 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 105 

sary apartment, whose broken door looked directly upon 
the street door and the stairway below. 

The voices they had heard came from a room opposite 
the stair- way’s head, where they stood. 

An oblong peep-hole slide, such as are used to view offer- 
ing customers by low gambling-dens, was placed in the 
center of the door of the room. 

It did not fit snugly, and a broad ray of light that poured 
without showed that its broken edge afforded a crack 
through which the doings within might be observed. 

To this crack the detectives approached. 

The floor of the room within was carpetless. 

In the room’s center was a large, round table. 

It was daubed all over with green ink-stains, as if the 
liquid had been spilled in the manufacture of bogus green- 
backs. 

Upon it burned a lamp, and at its farther edge, facing 
the door, sat a large, bald-headed, gray-whiskered man, 
whom Bridger at once recognized as “Boss” Goucher, an 
old burglar whom he, aided by Hoffman and Scott, two of 
Chicago’s most skillful detectives, had arrested two years 
before for robbing a store in that city. 

The evidence, however, had not been sufficient to convict 
him, and having money to employ a shrewd lawyer, he 
was discharged. 

He was very busily engaged in counting over, inspecting, 
and separating a huge pile of new bills. 

So busy was he that he had not, as it seemed, looked up 
to notice that “Jack, the Fork,” and his English friend 
had been permitted to enter the apartment by Mr. ‘ ‘ Tom, 
the Frog,” and that the three occupied seats at the table, 
observing his movements. 

When he did finally notice their presence it was with a 
look of surprise that any one but himself was in the room. 

“Blast such work !” he cried, suddenly, for he not only 
appeared to be full of business but in a rage. 

As he spoke he tore a five-dollar bill angrily in two 
pieces, crumpled the discarded paper in his hands, and 
tossed the worthless wad directly in front of the stranger 
upon the table. 

“Halloo !” he added, as if for the first noticing the pres- 
ence of the tipsy Englishman, and “Jack, the Fork,” “who 
have we here? — as they say in the theater.” 

“ Wide-awakes of the right sort,” returned the “roper,” 
“I have come to invest, and so has me friend,” 


106 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


Goucher nodded by way of recognition to the English- 
man, then busied himself again. 

“Jack, the Fork,” picked up the wad which had once 
represented a new five-dollar bill. 

He straightened out the pieces, laid them together, ex- 
amined them carefully, and remarked : 

“I don’t see anything the matter with this bill. What’s 
wrong with it ?” 

“Sharper eyes than yours might suggest that same ques 
tion,” returned Goucher. u However, the note is not exactly 
perfect, and I will permit nothing that might be anywhere 
detected to leave here.” 

The “roper” passed the torn bill to the Englishman, and 
he also examined it carefully. 

“I don’t — hie — see anything the matter with it.” said he. 
and I’m a judge of the money of all nations. In fact, 
there’s nothing the matter with it — it’s a good bill !” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Goucher, “I have here plenty that 
are better, although that might travel the land over with- 
out discovery. Now, how much of the stuff shall I roll up 
for you ? One dollar buys five of it.” 

At this point, to the utter astonishment of the three 
“hawks,” the Englishman abruptly pushed his chair back 
from the table and smiled quietly upon the men before 
him. 

A look of intelligence passed between them, and then 
Goucher somewhat tartly demanded : 

“Well, you came here prepared to buy, didn’t you?” 

“Yes — hie — I’ve got money.” 

“How much, then, of the stuff do you want?” 

“ All of that — hie — kind of stuff I can get at that price ; 
but I've no particular use for bundles of saw dust and 
waste paper.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“I mean — hie — that them notes are all good notes, and — 
hie — that you haven’t got a bad bill in the house. You 
wouldn’t take a trunkful of crooked money as a free gift ! 
And the good, old, threadbare game’s to roll up a lump of 
those — hie — bills, take the chump’s — hie — money, change 
the package on him, and let him take away a roll of saw- 
dust or paper, which ’e police ’d — hie — laugh at him for if 
he dared complain, which he dare not — ” 

“Well, if you’re so ‘fly,’ ’’roared Goucher, “what the 
devil did you come here for ?” 

And the three “ hawks” sprang to their feet and glared 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


107 


at the smiling Englishman as if their intention was to wipe 
the floor with him. 

“Easy men — hie — easy,” said he, waving his hand as if 
bidding them to resume their chairs. “ I am here on busi- 
ness. ” 

u On business, eh ?” demanded Goucher. “ Who are you 
— a ‘fly cop?’ ” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

i 

THE SAND-BAG. 

“Not much ! — hie — I hate a detective worse’n you do.” 

“ Then, be quick ! Explain your business. ” 

“ Sit down, me friends — hie — ” returned the Englishman. 
“You fellows get mad so easy. Fact is, I don’t — hie — 
’member of fellows that get mad so easy as you do.” 

The room was close and warm, and as the man spoke 
the liquor which he had imbibed seemed to assert itself, 
and his head dropped forward upon his breast, as if he had 
fallen into a drunken stupor. 

“I’ll bet he’s an escaped lunatic,” exclaimed “Tom, the 
Frog. ” 

“ Bah !” sneered Goucher. 

“We’ll see what he’s got about his clothes, anyway,” 
quoth “Jack, the Fork.” 

And suiting his action to the word that enterprising 
worthy proceeded to deftly untomb the contents of the 
Englishman’s pockets. 

A large roll of bills, a gold watch, chain, and a pocket- 
wallet were transferred in a twinkling to a position upon 
the table. 

Suddenly the Englishman revived, and, opening his eyes, 
perceived what was going on. 

“Jack, the Fork,” sprang aside and assumed an innocent 
air, while his intended victim clutched the pile of valuables 
before him. 

“You were going to rob me, eh?” he exclaimed. 

Nor did he appear so much intoxicated as before. “ Noth- 
ing of the sort,” quoth Goucher. “You had fallen into a 
drunken stupor — might have taken poison or something, 
and turned out a case for the morgue. We want to get 
into no trouble here, and were only looking through your 
pockets to establish your identity and learn where to send 
you.” 


108 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER, 


“I’ll find that out for myself, gentlemen,” returned the 
Englishman, placing the watch in his pocket and retaining 
the roll of blils in his hand. “ But it is evident that you 
hunger among you for this roll of bills. Now, mark me, 
you shall have them squarely if you’ll do me one favor, 
and keep that favor ‘ dead. ’ ” 

“What is that, my man — take you back to the asylum?” 

“Make no mistake, I’m not crazy — although I soon may 
be if I am not rid of a trouble which I have on my hands. ” 

“ What shape is it ?” 

“A man.” 

“A man, eh?” 

“ Yes, a seedy fellow who pretends to be my friend, and 
yet continues to follow me about everywhere. ” 

“Well, why don’t you shake him?” 

“I can’t; in fact, I don’t want to do so either, if I 
thought he was square. I’m even willing to take money 
from the bank and set him up ; but I’ve got it into my 
head that he’s made up his mind to get me in some out-of- 
the-way place and kill me.” 

“It might be you only imagine so, or, as they say, are a 
little off your ‘cabassa’ through ‘lushing’ too much.” 

“Let that be as it will. We’ll suppose that I state the 
thing straight. Now, then, if that man and I were travel- 
ing together— say upon a railway at night— might he not 
give me a thump on the head, rob me, dash me from the 
train, and no one be the wiser ?” 

“He might.” 

“ And folks would naturally suppose that I fell off ; for 
that’s my idea of how he has planned it.” 

“ Such cases doubtless have been, ” returned Goucher. “ I 
have no doubt that in many cases where men have fallen 
off trains and been killed, if the real truth were known, 
there was some ‘crooked’ work. So it’s pretty hard to tell, 
when a man is found dead near a railway, whether he’s 
been thrown from the train or has fallen off through natu- 
ral causes.” 

“Then there’s my trouble. You see, this man might 
knock me thus from a train ; and the thing seems so easy 
that, from watching his actions, I’m thinking he intends to 
doit.” 

“ Do you carry much money with you ?” 

“ I intend doing so, for I’m bound for Florida for the 
winter, and he knows it.” 

“Then don’t carry the money, or else employ a detective 
to accompany you. ” 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


109 


“ That would be expensive, and would be insulting to a 
man whom I must consider my friend, unless he proves 
the truth of my fear, which, as you say, may be all fancy, 
for, in fact, I have been drinking too freely of late. ” 

“ Then what do you want of us ?” 

“A way to protect myself against assault if necessary.” 

“ How can we aid you ?” 

u You are old hands — men who have done ‘crooked’ 
work. Pardon me for saying so, but I knew that the young 
man here was a ‘ steerer in’ for just some such a game as you 
are playing. And so I followed him here — not so much in- 
toxicated as I have seemed — and willing, as I now am, to 
leave this roll, containing five hundred dollars, in your 
hands. Briefly, then, I require a weapon by which I can 
defend myself if attacked, and I wish no testimony to exist 
if I have to use it, that I possessed it, or where I procured 
it.” 

“That’s easy. You want to get a revolver, on the sly, I 
suppose ?” 

“ Not a revolver. Something that will make no noise, 
and can be done away with so as not to be found. ” 

w I have it !” exclaimed Goucher, arising from his chair, 
and going to the rear part of the room. 

Soon after he returned and threw a heavy weapon upon 
the table which resembled, in appearance, a half-yard of 
fresh Bologna sausage. 

“ There, ” he said, “ is a sand-bag, one rap from which, in 
a strong man’s hands, would floor a bull. It is built espec- 
ially for quiet work — work which, years ago, some of us 
were into. 

u If you were to knock a fellow down with that, ” he con- 
tinued, striking the weapon upon the table, u all you would 
have to do to destroy the evidence would be — well, say it 
was on a railway train. Go to the saloon in the corner of 
the car, undo this end of it, and pour the filling out through 
the aperture. They would, of course, distribute along the 
track, and be lost beyond tracing. Then you have only the 
bare bag left. It is made of tough canvas, saturated with 
spirits of turpentine, and covered with oiled silk. All you’ve 
got to do then is to light a match, set it on fire, and drop it 
through on the track. On the instant it will be aflame and 
the blaze will stick to it till it’s burned to ashes and blown 
away. And if any passing track walker should see it burn- 
ing he’d think it a piece of blazing waste from the engine, 
and give it no notice.” 

“That will suit me, then,” said the Englishman, taking 


110 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


the terrible weapon in his hand. “ And now, let us under- 
stand each other. If I give you this roll of money you are 
to sell me this weapon to be used in my protection, are 
never to know or speak any more about it, and I am to be 
permitted to go my way hence without being assaulted or 
robbed ?” 

“The terms are suitable,” returned Goucher, with a 
broad grin of approbation. “ The bag contains the right 
quality of copper filings, just enough of ’em, and packed 
the right way for offense and defense ; and it would be 
hard to find a man that would build a weapon of that 
character for little money. The five hundred will buy it, 
and supply ample ‘ hush, ’ though it’s not likely that we, 
who’ve long since ‘tied up prigging,’ would ‘squeal’ on the 
transfer. So you take it from us on the quiet, and, as 
you’ve got it in your hands, you would seem to have the 
best of us, if we meant to assault or rob you. So make the 
‘cambia,’ leave the ‘cole,’ take the implement, and go 
where you will in peace. ” 

“ Done !” said the Englishman, and tossing the roll of 
notes to Goucher, he placed the sand-bag in an inner pocket 
of his great-coat, and arose to his feet. 

“I’ve only one thing more to say to you, my ‘nazy 
cove, ’ ” quoth Goucher. “ And that is, you want to remem- 
ber, at all times, that that thing is not a child’s plaything. 
Keep it right along in your mind that a very slight knock 
from it will tumble a strong man, and a harsh blow with it 
would crack his skull, and kill him as dead as if a cannon 
ball struck him. You’ll never hear from us, but don’t you 
let us ever hear from you either. ” 

“I am thankful to you,” returned the Englishman, turn- 
ing toward the door. “Mum is the word. I’ll never have 
use for the thing unless assaulted, but I feel better since I 
possess a weapon that I may be able to resist with. 

“I have accomplished what I came here for,” he added, 
“ and if you are satisfied open the door and let me go away.” 

At a motion from Goucher “Jack, the Fork,” approached 
the door. 

As he did so the two sleuth-hounds retreated softly to 
the cover of the apartment at the rear of the hall-way. 

A moment later the bolt slid back, the door opened, and 
the Englishman stepped forth, descended the stair-way, 
and passed forth upon the street. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGET, 


111 


■ ‘ ; ' 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

“l’M VAITIN’ FOR IT ! I YANT IT ! I YANT IT !” 

The two detectives would have followed the Englishman 
had not the three u hawks” stepped softly from the room to 
the baluster of the stair-way, peering after him until the 
door below had closed behind his departing form. 

As it did so “ Jack, the Fork,” said, with a laugh : 

“Well, ha ! ha ! ha ! what is it? Has he got the monkeys 
— in — his — ears from over ’boosing V — or is he a dead crank, 
and off because he is off ?” 

“Nix,” returned Goucher ; “that fellow’s either a ‘high- 
tober’ himself after an ‘elephant,’ or he’s in the employ of 
a ‘ king-gounoff . ’ ” 

“And that’s my way of thinking,” said “Tom, the Frog.” 
“For the ‘cocum bloke’ knows a thing or two, and got 
what he wanted in a ‘bene’ way. He’s had dealings with 
‘crooked’ people before, and means murder — you can bet !” 

“Well, he’s got us on for nothing; let him go as he 
please,” quoth Goucher. “And we’ve here his five hun- 
dred ‘cases’ to divide for a good day’s work. Come in, and 
I’ll whack.” 

As the door of the den closed and bolted behind the three 
“hawks,” the street door opened softly, and a Polish Jew, 
with bright, twinkling little eyes, peered within the hall- 
way. 

He was of the regular Baxter street type of old-clothes’ 
men, and wore a full, tattered black beard. 

A long, well-worn ulster of brown stuff covered his 
diminutive form, and a square, old-fashioned stiff hat sat 
low upon his frowzy head. 

In his left hand he carried a glass jar wrapped about with 
brown paper. 

His glance seemed to convince him that all was right, 
for entering the hall- way and closing the door behind him, 
he softly ascended the steps toward the room in which the 
proceeds of the sand-bag transaction were in process of 
division. 

Pausing without the door he peered through the crack of 
the ill-fitting peep hole slide. 

Convinced that matters stood as he desired, he rapped 
gently upon the door. 


112 DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEE. 

A moment later the slide opened, and Goucher’s voice 
demanded : 

“ Who’s there ?” 

“It was only me, Mr. Goucher,” returned the Jew, re- 
moving his hat and bowing. “ Vas it right — might I come 
in?” 

“Yes,” came the gruff answer. 

The slide slid shut, and the bolt was heard to slide back. 

While awaiting the opening of the door the Jew shook his 
right hand swiftly above his head in the manner peculiar 
to his class, and said, audibly, as if for his own gratifica- 
tion : 

“I know you vant to sheat me. But you can’t ! You 
can’t — you tief, you can’t sheat Sammy Muggins . 44 

But as the door opened his hat was again in his hand, 
and in the most serile manner he bowed, smiled, and 
scraped, saying, as he passed within : 

44 Yy, Mr. Goucher, you vas lookin’ quite as bright as a 
dollar coin dis evening. And how vas Mr. Tom and Mr. 
Jack? Vy, I vas glad to see you all.” 

As the door banged to, and the bolt . shot to its place, his 
greeting still continued within. 

Softly leaving their nook of concealment, the detectives 
approached the crack in the door, as before. 

44 What have you got there ?” demanded Goucher, point- 
ing to the package which Sammy Muggins carried. 

44 It vas only cooking-butter, Mr. Goucher, vat I vas tak- 
ing to Bachel, Moses’ daughter, Mr. Goucher.” 

44 And have you got anything for me ?” 

44 No, Mr. Goucher — but if you have de money for de 
necklace I vould take it by Moses wid me. ” 

44 Well, it was the necklace ‘wanted,’ and I’ve got the 
money for you. ” 

44 How much, Mr. Goucher ?” 

44 Two hundred dollars. ” 

44 Holy Moses, man ! Yy, de diamonds separate might be 
pawned for more ! Yy, vas not de reward by de advertise- 
ment for five hundred dollar ?” 

44 That’s wnat the advertisement offered.” 

44 Yell, your share vas to be de half?” 

44 No, Sammy, we were to whack, half and half, after the 
‘fly-cops’ had their 4 commish. ’ They took one hundred 
and—” 

44 Yon hundred !— vat a sheat !” 

41 Get out, you bloke ! They would have given five hun- 
dred out of their own pockets to have set their ‘glims’ on 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 113 

the 1 fence’ that took that necklace from the thief that 
‘nipped’ it.” 

“ Vy, did dey say de tief vas bad wanted?” 

“Tom took the jewel around, and he can tell you.” 

“Vat did de ‘fly-cops’ say, Tom?” 

“Well, all as I have to say is,” returned Tom, “ they were 
particular pressing about the health of the thief that 
‘ turned the trick, ’ and they would have parted with a good 
‘ boodle, ’ if I had named the ‘ fence. ’ ” 

“But you vouldn’t do it, Mr. Tom? Vy, look how many 
tousand monies Moses puts in de vay ov you, and Mr. 
Goucher, and Mr. Jack.” 

“It’s all right. Here’s your money. Clear out, and no 
more gab. Tell Moses that everything’s solid.” 

As Goucher spoke he tossed a roll of money upon the 
table, and toward the Jew. 

At this moment the door below again softly opened, and 
the two sleuth-hounds hastened to their work in the rear of 
the hall-way. 

A second Jew, resembling the first in form and feature, 
but a shade better dressed and more erect, stood in the 
hall-way holding the door open, and peering upward. 

An instant later the door of the den opened, and the first 
Jew bowed his way out. 

“It vas all right, Mr. Goucher, all right,” he said. “I 
vould go right avay by Moses. Good-by to you all, shen- 
telmens !” 

But as the door slammed shut in his face, and the bolt 
was placed again, he shook his hand above his head as be- 
fore, and gave vent to a torrent of execrations in Hebrew 
against the villains within. 

As he did so the Jew below uttered a low : 

“ Hist !” 

Peering over the baluster, Sammy Muggins answered 
with another : 

“ Hist !” 

“Vas dat you, Sammy?” asked the Hebrew below. 

“Yes, Moses. Vait, I come quick down.” 

And Sammy Muggins shambled hastily down the stair- 
way. 

“ Vere vas you all de vile to-day, Sammy? I vas ashamed 
by you,” quoth Moses Muggins, as the two brothers met in 
the hall-way. 

“I vas over by Polinski’s house by Staten Island all day, 
Moses— vy ?” 

Vy, I could not think v^t keep you* Somedimes I tinks 


114 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


you got de money of Goucher, and vent avay vid it. I have 
just come to ask of it. ” 

“ You vas foolish, Moses. You know I not do such ting.” 

“Yell, Sammy be quick about it. Did you get de money 
for de necklace ?” 

“ Yes ; here it vas.” 

And Sammy delivered the roll which Goucher had given 
him. 

“ How much vas it ?” 

“ Catch your veight on de door, Moses, and don’t fall dead 
ven I tell you.” 

“ Be quick, Sammy, how much ?” 

“ Two hundred dollar. ” 

“ Two hundred dollar ! My eyes, it was for five hundred 
advertised ! Such tiefs vould yet ruin us !” 

“ De ‘ fly-cops’ took von hundred commission. ” 

“Nonsense, but ve could not do better. Vat is dat you 
have in de bundle ?” 

“Badent butter,” and as he spoke Sammy Muggins re- 
moved the paper from the glass jar, and Moses looked at 
the commodity in it. 

“ Badent butter ? Vat you mean by dat ?” 

“Yell, ven I say badent butter, Moses, I mean someding.” 

“Yell, be quick. Yat you mean vid such nonsense?” 

“I mean, Moses, it vas a fortune. Ye could make prime 
butter as sheap as mud. ” 

“ Who told you dese tings ? I see you vas veak here, ” 
and Moses touched his forehead suggestively. “Yat kind 
of beer is it now sold in Staten Island ?” 

“ Vait, Moses. I drink no beer. A Polish man, soon from 
Turkey, stays now vid our friend Polinski by Staten 
Island.” 

“Yell ?” 

“Yell, Polinski say to him I was brother of Moses Mug- 
gins vat keeps a business in New York, and I should speak 
vid you of dat butter.” 

“ How vas dat butter made ?” 

“ Yisper, Moses. You vouldn’t give it avay?” 

“ Sure not. ” 

“Yell, visper ! Twenty-five drops of concentrated Turk- 
ish rat poison, dropped in a barrel of ordinary kerosene oil 
vould curdle up and change de whole business into solid 
vite butter like dat. Ye could take de man into de house, 
Moses, give him fifty cents a day, and half of de dog’s 
meal, till ve find out all about it. deu kick him out on de 
street.” . 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEE. _ /;* 115 

“ But vat good vould be dat butter ?” 

“ Vat good vould be dat butter, Moses? Yait, vat you 
tink, vid ordinary boarding-house butter, in de vinter time, 
at one dollar de pound. It vould revolutionize de busi- 
ness. Vid kerosene at ten cents a gallon, and Turkish rat 
poison sheap as street mud, ve have a prime, genuvine ar- 
ticle of butter at two cents a pound. Everybody vould buy. 
V at more do you vant ?” 

“But it would be poison butter.” 

“ Vait, Moses, vait. De Turkish rat poison kills de taste 
of de kerosene. De kerosene kills de poison of de Turkish 
rat poison. Vait. To-day we tried it on three cats, von 
dog, and von hog. De cats vent to sleep avile, de dog hide 
avay a few minutes, but de hog, whose stomach vas most 
like de man, he grunt for more of de butter. And vait, 
Moses. De hog vat boarded in de next pen, he only smelled 
it ven he sticks up his snoot like dis, just as if he wanted 
to say ven he grunted : ‘Give me some. I vant some. I’m 
vaitin’ for it. I vant it ! I vant it !’ ” 

Sammy Muggins’ enthusiasm over the patent butter 
scheme, at this point, brought him to grief. 

Goucher’s burly bartender, enraged at the noisy conver- 
sation in the hall-way, had slipped from a side-door from 
the bar-room in the rear of Moses and Sammy. 

Moses still held open the door, and Sammy stood facing 
the street near him. 

So soon as the bartender perceived that Sammy Muggins 
was the author of the noise in the hall-way he made a rush 
for him. 

At first, as Sammy, with body bent over, and upturned 
features, in describing the eagerness of the hog to obtain a 
taste of the butter, had squealed out : “I’m vaitin’ for it ! I 
vant it ! I vant it !” the bartender delivered him a tre- 
mendous kick upon the bent portion of his frame, which 
sent him flying through the door- way, and upon the side- 
walk without. 

A lamp -lighter had just succeeded in lighting a street 
lamp on the opposite side of the street as Sammy staggered 
to his feet. 

“ Fire ! De city vas on fire !” he shrieked, and dashed 
wildly off toward the Bowery. 

On the instant a fat policeman passed the door on a dog- 
trot, brandishing his club, and calling out to the running 
man to stop. 

This had only the effect of making the bewildered Jew 
run the faster. 


116 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


The policeman’s advent, however, restrained the burly 
bartender, who had turned as if to assault Sammy’s as- 
tounded and trembling brother. 

But Moses, thinking that the bartender had suddenly 
recognized him as the rich 44 fence” who had had frequent 
dealings with Goucher, smiled in his terror, and pretended 
to join in the joke at Sammy’s expense. 

u I am Moses Muggins,” he said. U I do business vid Mr. 
Goucher. It vas quite right to remind Sammy not to make 
so much noise. Ha, ha ! he vanted it, and he vanted it ! 
Yell, he got it— didn’t he, Mr. Bartender?” 

“ Yes, and you’ll be gettin’ a dose of it, too,” thundered 
the bartender, “if you don’t be makin’ yourself scarce. 
For, whoever you be doin’ business wid, mind yer, yer 
don’t want ter be blowin ’yer bazzoos in this hall-way !” 

Having thus demonstrated his authority, the “ tumper” 
strode away with a Mose stride, and disappeared whence 
he came. 

Extending the palms of his hands, raising them over his 
head, and shaking them to and fro with the energy of a 
steam-engine, Moses Muggins invoked a string of curses, 
in Hebrew, upon the autocrat of the bar, and then suddenly 
wheeling about, vanished upon the street. 

The Scotch detective and Bridger softly descended the 
stair- way, assured that they had gained clews that promised 
to be of great value in their quest. It was dark when 
they emerged upon the street, and they perceived, to their 
dismay, that the Muggins brothers had passed from view. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

TRACING THE NECKLACE CLEW. 

“ If it should prove that this sand-bag man is the 4 Squeal- 
er’ and that the companion he spoke of is Alfonse Godot that 
which we have found points to nothing short of Videre’s 
determination to murder Alfonse,” said the Scotch detec- 
tive, as the two sleuth-hounds hastened toward the Bowery. 

“If you think that,” returned Bridger, 41 we should have 
given that man the collar at all hazards, to-day.” 

44 But you forget, Bobe, I uever saw Videre, and although 
the man’s features tally somewhat with the picture of the 
‘Squealer’ in the Rogues’ Gallery in London, and his 
squeaking voice and dealing with 4 crooked’ people point 
toward Videre, still no absolute evidence can exist against 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 117 

him until we have found 4 Silly’ Billy, Meg Bolard, and 
Annette. ” 

“ Then we must first look up the game of these two 
Jews.” 

The Scotch detective acquiesced, and on reaching the 
Bowery, Bridger led to a drinking saloon where a file of 
the Herald was kept. 

Glancing at the “ Reward” column the two detectives 
read the following notice in the issue of the day previous : 

db A — A reward of five hundred dollars will be paid, and no 
qp eJ V7 \J • questions asked, for the prompt return of a red Russian- 
leather jewel-case, containing a diamond necklace. 

Bower Detective Agency, — Broadway. 

Half an hour later the Scotch detective and Bridger en- 
tered the detective agency, whose number was attached to 
the advertisement. 

The principal of the firm, a short, squarely built man, 
with keen, blue eyes, curly hair, and blonde mustache, sat 
alone at his desk. 

Introducing the Scotch detective and himself as detec- 
tives, Bridger referred to the notice concerning the neck* 
lace, and asked if it would be adverse to the business 
interests of the agency to say in what manner the jewel 
had been lost. 

“ By no means,” the detective returned. “I will gladly 
give you the information. It was taken from the person 
by a garroter.” 

“ From whom ?” 

“From one A. W. Walton, a gentleman resident in New 
Orleans. 

“ Was the robbery committed in New York?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Garroters generally travel three in a gang — is Mr. Wal- 
ton positive that there was only one thief ?” 

“ The theft was committed by one man — a tall, smooth- 
faced, powerful fellow.” 

“Could Mr. Walton identify the thief?” 

“He could not — the man’s actions were so swift. But it 
is easy to see, gentlemen, that you have recently been 
working outside of New York city, or you would know 
that a general order has been issued to the New York 
force to keep a vigilant watch for ‘ an adroit footpad, tall, 
clean shaven, and swift-footed, who had succeeded in com- 
mitting a number of the most daring robberies from the 


118 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


person, escaping on each occasion so as to leave no further 
clew to his identity. ’ ” 

“ Then it would be a fine feather in a sleuth-hound’s cap 
to capture this thief ?” 

“Well, I should smile ! Between us all, I offered the fel- 
low who brought in the necklace five hundred out of my 
own pocket to give away even the ‘fence’ he got it from.” 

“Then it was not the ‘fence’ himself who brought it.” 

“ Look here, old boy, you know it was a ‘ go between’ who 
brought it. ” 

“Well, would it be too much to ask who the ‘go-between’ 

was ?” 

“Yes, as matters stand, I think that would be a little too 
much kindness to give away. The necklace, however, was 
the second article brought to us by the same ‘ go-between’ 
in answer to reward notices inserted by our firm, and 
originally stolen by this skillful highwayman.” 

“ Might it not be possible that this ‘ go-between’ deals di- 
rectly with the thief ?” 

“To our certain knowledge he does not.” 

“ Please explain. ” 

“Well, in the first place this ‘go-between’ is an ex-thief, 
who, with others, is working a safe confidence game. He 
is doing nothing now that will put him in danger of look- 
ing through the bars, and every New York ‘fence’ knows 
that it is safe to trust him, for pay, to deliver stolen goods 
and collect the reward. He also knows that he is safe in 
coming here, for it is an accommodation to us, our cus- 
tomers, and our business.” 

“ Then suppose I was to name this ‘go-between,’ would 
you inform us if I have done so correctly ?” 

“No, gentlemen, you ask too much. We have an ex- 
pensive office here, and must live.” 

“ Then if we were to say that we not only know and can 
name this ‘go-between,’ but the ‘fence’ and the thief — 
what would you say to that ?” 

“ If you will name the three I will inform you if you 
have hit on the right ‘ go-between, ’ providing you give me 
your word that you will use the information privately.” 

“ That is understood — but now you ask too much. I’ll 
tell you what we’ll do — we’ll do even better for you than 
this.” 

“What?” 

“ If this thief might be taken, and commit no further 
robberies, then your interest in him narrows down to your 
two customers who have been his victims ?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


119 


“ Just so.” 

“Well in that case, if you were assured that these losses, 
including rewards paid, and your commissions, would be 
paid in full — you would be happy ?” 

“Right you are !” 

“ Then, to make a long story short, we want this high- 
wayman for what he knows about a murder, and are so 
close on his heels that we know the ‘ fence’ he is dealing 
with. We have reason to believe that this ‘fence’ has 
driven him to the commission of these robberies, and is, 
therefore, himself the real criminal. This ‘fence’ is rich, 
and we give you our word as officers that we will find him, 
and that when we do we will place in his hands such bills 
as you may prepare, and his choice to at once cover in the 
amount to your office or go to trial. That is if you will 
name this ‘ go-between. ’ ” 

“ On those conditions I will do so. ” 

“ Then he was no other than one of the two men who are 
working the ‘sawdust racket’ in company with ‘Boss’ 
Goucher, and either Tom or Jack?” 

“ ‘ Tom, the Frog, ’ it was. ” 

“ That is all we want to know. Make out your bills, and 
we will see that they are paid. ” 

Bower wrote out an itemized account of the losses of 
the office’s two customers, who had been robbed by the 
unknown garroter, making the full amount twelve hun- 
dred and fifty dollars. 

“ To that please add, ” said the Scotch detective, ‘ ‘ the sum 
of one thousand dollars lost to the same thief by Dr. Macy, 
a gentleman whose case we ourselves have in hand. And 
when the money is paid you will at once inform us by 
placing the one thousand dollars claimed in the hands of 
the proprietor of the St. Nicholas Hotel, to be delivered to 
Dr. Macy, who is living there. ” 

“ And if the amount is not covered back to us ?” 

“We promise to call again, and bring funds to cover 
your bill. ” 

“ And now, ” said Bridger, glancing at his watch, “ we 
have some brisk work before us to-night, and must be 
going.” 

“I am e:lad you called, gentlemen,” quoted Detective 
Bower, giving the hands of the two sleuth-hounds a part- 
ing shake, “ and will at once notify our customers of the 
prospect of recovering their losses. 

“ I see, boys, ” he added, “ that you are shielding the foot- 
pad, and are on a stealthy hunt for heavy game. If I can 


120 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


aid you in any way — call at any time — myself and men 
will be at your service.” 

“That diamond necklace clew has proved to be first 
water,” said the Scotch detective as the two sleuth-hounds 
descended from the agency to the street. 

“Ay,” returned Bridger, “for there is no longer a doubt 
that "the Muggins brothers know of the whereabouts of 
‘Silly’ Billy, Meg Bolard, and Annette.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

WHAT THE BLUE SHIRTS BROUGHT FORTH. 

The two sleuth-hounds repaired at once to the Bond 
street rooms, and made a complete change of apparel from 
Bridger’ s amply filled trunks. 

Leaving off the long hair, the descriptions of two famous 
scouts, well known to American story readers, convey an 
idea of the relative forms of Bridger and the Scotch detec- 
tive. 

Bridger was a counterpart both in nerve and form to 
‘Wild Bill,’ but, unlike him, was a blonde. 

The Scotch detective, with his gentlemanly appearance 
and manners, somewhat resembled “Buffalo Bill.” 

Although Bridger was a trifle the heavier man of the two 
his clothes were well suited to the form of the Scotch de- 
tective. 

While the two sleuth-hounds were dressing, Bridger’ s 
landlady rapped on the door, and delivered the Scotch de- 
tective’s mail, which had arrived from Washington in an- 
swer to his telegram. 

It contained advice from Scotland Yard which left no 
room to doubt that Pere Videre, accompanying Alfonse 
Godot, had sailed for America. 

The two detectives were now assured that the sand-bag 
man, of Goucher’s den, was no other than Pere Videre, 
and that he had purchased the terrible weapon to put A1 
fonse Godot out of his way. 

Videre, skilled in crime, had doubtless deceived his sick 
companion into a belief that he was his friend, and would 
aid in the quest for his daughter. 

He had doubtless found means to keep Alfonse so unwell 
as to be unable to seek the British Consul in person for in- 
formation concerning Dr. Macy’s whereabouts. 

This Videre had volunteered to do for him. 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


121 


He had also found means to obtain the deceived man’s 
consent to the journey toward Florida, the consumptive’s 
winter rest. 

On the way thither he had planned to murder him, and 
thus end his claim to the estates of his father. 

No time was to be lost. 

The men must be found. 

If they left New York together the chances were that 
another murder case would be on the hands of the two 
sleuth-hounds. 

They therefore determined to search the hotels of the city 
at once for the two men. 

When they again descended to the street the two detec- 
tives were clothed as gentlemen, save in one particular. 

In their haste they had failed to change their under- 
clothing, and still wore the blue flannel shirts. 

The night was cool, however, and they kept their over- 
coats buttoned snugly at the neck, hiding the shirts from 
the eyes of the fastidious. 

Little did they dream that the entire success of their 
night’s work depended on those blue shirts. 

Hastening first to the St. Nicholas Hotel, they reported 
the progress made to Dr. Macy, and after cheering up the 
old gentleman with hopeful promises, entered a cab and 
began their round of New York’s principal hotels. 

They examined the registers and questioned the clerks in 
every hotel where a well to-do foreigner might be likely to 
put up, but all of no avail whatever. 

At midnight, as they were driving along in Sixth avenue, 
the Scotch detective sadi : 

“I feel, Bobe, as if we were on a fool’s errand to-night.” 

u How so?” 

u We are not following an English gentleman, but an 
English thief. Of course Videre does not know that the 
London force have had eyes on him in England. ” 

“No, or he would not be here.” 

“ Then rely on it, Bobe, he will make a serpentine trail, 
hard to follow, and has stopped privately with his sick 
dupe. ” 

“You strike the nail fair on the head, I believe,” said 
Bridger. “ And it is beyond the hour to-night when we 
might call upon private lodging-houses.” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“What, then?” 

“Throw up the job for the night, and let us eat, for I’m 
as hungry as a wolf.” 


122 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEK. 


“Pm with you, for, come to think, Christina’s ham sand- 
wiches have only broken our fast since breakfast. ” 

Opening the cab’s door the Scotch detective ordered the 
cabman to drive to a restaurant. 

“ What one ?” asked the driver. 

“ Any one where a first-class meal is served. ” 

Soon after the cab drew up before a somewhat preten- 
tious restaurant, upon whose cut-glass windows was dis- 
played the sign : “ English Chop House. ” 

Dismissing the cabman the two sleuth-hounds entered, 
to find themselves in a cozy and somewhat aristocratic 
dining-room. 

They perceived that several sprigs of Gotham’s nobility 
who were at the time dining within, glanced toward them, 
as if they were entering the realms of a class to which they 
did not belong. 

As they seated themselves at one of the tables they no- 
ticed also that the w~aiter was slow in approacting them, 
and that he eyed them suspiciously as he presented the bill 
of fare. 

They ordered two porterhouse steaks, and that turtle 
soup and coffee be served them at once. 

As the waiter departed to fill their order the proprietor 
of the place made a cautious tour in their neighborhood, 
eying them as if he considered their custom at the best not 
to be desired. 

They perceived also that although the sign without pre- 
sented the legend, “ English Chop House,” the landlord was, 
in fact, a portly German. 

Bridger and the Scotch detective were not men who 
would tamely endure insult, and their eyes began to snap 
wickedly. 

As the proprietor approached them a second time the 
Scotch detective demanded, in a voice that commanded the 
attention of all in the room : 

“ Are you the proprietor of this place ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the answer. 

“Well, have you lost a gold mine, or any other small 
article, where we are sitting ?” 

“ Sir, I do not understand vat you mean. ” 

u Nor I what you mean by your suspicious looks. We have 
ordered what we desire from your bill of fare, and go you 
and see that our order is hurried up. 

“ And remember, ” added the angry detective, u if you re- 
turn, with your insulting demeanor, to this vicinity again 
during our stay, I will make it my business to take you by 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


123 


the arm, and drum into your head a proper method toward 
a gentleman who may, through accident, enter your place. ” 

The fat landlord reddened in embarrassment, and was 
about to stammer forth an explanation, when the cause of 
the misunderstanding suddenly dawned upon Bridger, and 
he roared in laughter. 

The two sleuth-hounds had neglected, on entering, to 
button their overcoats at the neck, and the blue shirts had 
subjected them to the unusual scrutiny which they had 
experienced. 

“Sir,” said Bridger, “you will overlook the anger of my 
friend, when we inform you that we have been so busy 
since sunrise this morning, that we have been, to a degree, 
thoughtless in matters of dress. A blue shirt, though hon- 
est, I know, is not suited to the surroundings, but men in 
our line wear all sorts of shirts, and sometimes no shirts at 
all.” 

As Bridger spoke he displayed his badge. 

When the fat landlord perceived that his guests were de- 
tectives his sorrow that he had been so imprudent as to 
give them cause for anger, was evident, and his apologies 
were heartfelt and profuse. 

“Ve have often such unbleasant things in dis business 
vat you vould not believe,” he said, “and somedimes it git 
me tired I vas outside my own soul. Vrequently comes in 
decent mechanics, but because flashy, cheap chop houses 
gives quality and price unreasonable small, vill make a 
kick at vat ve sharge. Nein, I begrudge no man his stomach- 
ful, but only I vould avoid droubles.” 

So saying he hastened away, and hurried up the waiter, 
who in a moment returned bearing the turtle soup and 
coffee. 

The two detectives* had buttoned their coats to hide the 
blue shirts, but the Scotch detective was still angry, and 
sat moodily sipping the food. 

Noticing this the fat landlord again approached to renew 
his apologies. 

Beginning by inquiring if the soup suited, he continued : 

“Yes, I have frequently much droubles, and find dat I 
must keep dings to suit de fancy of dose beoples vat batron- 
ize me most, and whose ideas of mankindt vas government 
by de dress vat he vears. By de vay, vor eggsample, a 
quite funnv thing vat dakes place shust three nights ago 
I could give you. Business vas dull, and vas only von 
customers in de blace. He was an English sljentlemans 


124 DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 

vat talks mit a strange, piccolo, high-pitch voice his 
orders. ” 

At this point the Scotch detective’s manner changed, 
and he looked up pleasantly toward the loquacious host, 
which seemed to encourage the German to continue. 

“Veil,” continued the landlord, “burty soon comes in, 
quite boldly, a thin man vat look as if he vas bad gon- 
sumpted. He vas quite good dressed, and walked to a 
dable, vile his gontinued, gonfounded hicchew cough 
seems at vonce to make de English shentlemans mad.” 

“Was he a friend of the English gentleman?” asked the 
Scotch detective. 

“No, I know he vas strange to each other. But dot 
English shentlemans eat mit me often pefore, and I fear 
me dot man vould insult him mit his hicchew cough. But, 
ven I think of it, dat bad gonsumpted man vas de cratest 
owner of cheek — genuvine touble-plated, copper bottomed, 
iron-riveted cheek vat I ever smelt. For he vas all ber- 
fumed up bleasantly mit — vat you call it — night-howling- 
serious berfume, and wore such law-de dock kid gloves. 

“Well, yelled out dot bad gonsumpted man to de vaiter : 

“ ‘Hic-chew ! hic-chew ! Vaiter !’ 

“ I vas half in a doze, und I vake up to think de cook 
vas cutting mit his saw a bone. 

“Ven de vaiter come dot bad gonsumpted man points to 
de dable, and say : 

“‘Hic-chew ! May I sit here, vaiter?’ 

“ ‘Sure,’ de vaiter said. ‘Vat should I serve you?’ 

“ And he hands dot bad gonsumpted man bill of fare. 

“Veil, mit a couple of dose hic-chews he glanced by it, 
and say to de vaiter : 

“ ‘ Hie — chew ! Might I have anydings vat I shoose vat is 
here?’ 

“ ‘ Sure, of course, ’ said de vaiter, vile I say to myself 
dot bad gonsumpted man vas some quiet, modest country 
shentlemans vat knows not de vay of business in New 
York. 

“‘Hic-chew! You vas very kind, ’ he then said. ‘Sol 
vould say a blate of nice chicken soup — hic-chew ! — to 
begin mit. ’ 

“ And dis he said should be followed by speckled trout — 
vorth two dollars a piece — filet de turbot a la Holandaise 
venison, Creole style, and apple fritters a la maitre du 
hotel. 

“‘Veil, good cracious! vat have I caught?’ dat’s vat I 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


125 


think. ‘Sure de man must be a Nevada silver-king, a 
country senator, or somedings. ’ 

“Veil, pefore be vatier got yet avay from him he says : 

“‘Hic-chew ! Vaiter, I vould ask you, dere vas no dan- 
ger by fire by dis building, vas it?’ 

“ ‘ No, sir, ’ de vaiter said. 

“‘Veil, I only vanted to — hic-chew! — know,’ dot bad 
gonsumpted man said. 

“Veil, ven he had de soup half done, he squeels owed : 

“ ‘ Hic-chew ! vaiter, a bottle of your finest glaret vine. ’ 

“ And ven he eats up his dinner he squeels out once 
more : 

“ ‘Hic-chew ! vaiter, a pint bottle of champagne !’ 

“Vile he sips de champagne he says to de vaiter : 

“ ‘ Hic-chew ! vaiter, I vould tell you now, you could in 
abowed dree seconds send for an officer. ’ 

“ ‘ Vat kind of an officer?’ vas vat de vaiter asked him. 

“ ‘ Hic-chew ! De usual kind — a boliceman, ’ he said. 

“ ‘ A boliceman !’ cried out de vaiter, and so did de Eng- 
lish shentelmans, vat all de vile vonder to see a man vat 
could eat a dinner vorth fifteen dollars and a half. 

“ ‘ Hic-chew ! a policeman, ’ repeated dot bad gonsumpted 
man, very quietly. 

“ ‘ Vat you vant it for?’ cried de vaiter, crowing right 
avay grazy on his feet, vile de English shentleman’s eyes 
stick out like goose eggs mit surprise, and my heart pegins 
to chump up agin my prains. 

“ ‘ Hic-chew ! To take me up, ’ he said. 

“‘Dake you up !’ spoke de vaiter, vile he proke a new 
soup blate over de head of his astonishment. 

“ ‘ Hic-chew !’ vas de quite cool, airy, Coney Island, Rock- 
away, sea-breeze answer. ‘But I don’t insist you should 
do so — only I vould inform you, I vould go right avay owed 
ven I end my champagne. ’ 

“‘Veil, sir, your bill vill be made owed in shust von 
minute, ’ said de vaiter. 

“‘I vould not doubt you,’ dot bad gonsumptive man 
says, vile he sips de vine shust like he own de vurld. ‘But 
it vouldn’t be paid in von minute, shust de same. De fact 
vas, I don’t got any money.’ 

“Veil, de English shentlemans half chumped upon his 
own dable, and I vent back so quick mit discouragement, de 
shair dipped and throws me almost through de bartition, 
vile de vaiter yell out like he vas mad : 

“‘Here! Mr. Bergen! Here! Mr. Bergen!’ 

“ So soon X could get myself together, and make myself 


126 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


believe I vas live in de nineteen century, and in de State 
and gounty of New York, I comes vorvard, vorse mad as 
twenty Spanish pull fighters. 

“ ‘ Vat vas dis matter here ?’ I roar owed, so you could 
hear de vedder-vane rattle mit de shimney overhead. 

“‘Dis shentlemans have no money,’ said de vaiter, 
drembling like a dog chewing bones, in fear he should be 
discharged for vaiting on him. 

“‘Vat!’ I say, ‘you vant do dole me you lose your 
money?’ and I make up my eyebrows like two mad cats’ 
dails. 

‘“Hic-chew! Oh, no,’ said dot bad gonsumpted man, 
bulling on his kid gloves shust like a lady. ‘No, no; I 
assure you, sir, I did not have any money ven I come 
here*’ 

“‘And you vant do dole me,’ I cried, mit my fists 
doubled savage forward — ‘you vant to dole me, you 
miserbale, gonsumpted, von-lung, hic-chew thief, you eat 
of me fifteen dollar and half delecatecens, and had no 
money to pay mit ?’ 

“‘Hic-chew! There! there!’ he said, vile he pushed 
his fingers shently into de gloves ; ‘ I have not gonblained 
of your sharges. Hey vas, in fact, very reasonable. I had 
expected de bill vould be at least twenty dollar. ’ 

“Veil, if Saint Baterick’s gathedral dropped on me, I 
could not veel vorse baralyzed. 

“My vind vent avay gombletely ven he gomplimended 
de reasonable brice, and for sixteen minutes I couldn’t 
speak above a visper. 

“ But all de vile I vas making my mind vedder I should 
fire him over de ash-cart by de street or ask him to smoke 
a fifty cent cigar, and sweep de floor mit him. 

“ To make the matter more gomblicated, de English shen- 
tlemans spoke mit me, for he saw swift death chumping 
up and down from my eyes. 

“‘Don’t be hasty mit de shentlemans,’ he said. ‘De 
shentleman might only be a little eggsentrick. Let me 
speak a vord mid him. ’ 

“So he takes a twenty-dollar bill owed of his pocket, 
and vispers do de gonsumptive man : 

“‘Sir, such things might happen even Ghay Gould ven 
he might be skylarkin’ owed late at night. Eggsept, I 
vould beg, de ineggsificant loan of twenty dollar from a 
stranger. ’ 

“ And vid dat he slips de bill into dot bad gonsumpted 
man’s hand, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


127 


“ I could not now know scarcely vat I vas abowed in my 
own place. 

“ ‘ Ah, thank you ! — hic-chew !’ said dot bad gonsumpted 
man. 

“‘You seem troubled mit de fewmony?’ said de English 
shentlemans. 

“‘Yes, ah ! — hic-chew — hic-chew — yes,’ he said. 

“‘So I should believe,’ I vispered. 

“Ven I said so dot bad gonsumpted man stands up mit 
de twenty dollar bill in his hand, shust as crate as if he 
was a bolice shudge, and I vas a miserable drunk vaitin’ to 
get ten days. 

“‘Sir — hic-chew!’ he said. ‘Vat you have insulted me 
by galling me a thief, may be true, but it is shust bossible, 
you might yet vind owed I was a shentleman. I vould 
vonce more in gonsequence by dot, ask you to back your 
obinions, and send right avay for a boliceman of yo still 
think I vas a thief like vat yo have said. ’ 

“ ‘ It vas all right, ’ I vispered, shust as if I vas sinking all 
de vile through de floor. ‘ I know all de vile you vas a 
shentlemans, and vould pay me — if not do night, some 
odder night.’ 

“I might — hic-chew — yes, I might,’ he said, blacing de 
twenty dollar bill in his bocket. ‘But, remember — hic- 
chew — I don’t say I vill. So, since you have teclined do 
send by dot bolicemans, vy — hic-chew — ve bart on derms 
more vorthy of shentlemens. Good-night, sir. Good-night, 
sir. ’ 

“And, bowing to de English shentlemans, he puts his 
hat sideways by his head, and valks dovard de door. 

“ He stops by de vindow, smells de flowers, and says : 

“ ‘ Hic-cfiew ! Vat fragrant flowahs !” 

“He then vent owed. 

“ It vas more I could quite stand, and if de vaiter had 
not himself fell over against me, ve both fell sure down. 

“De English shentleman laughed owed a loud, squeaking 
laugh, vich vent vorse by my ears as twenty dom gats 
singing on a hot night, soon by, ven I vas dead mit de 
headache. 

“De English shentleman pays his bill, and vent avay 
quick after dot bad gonsumpted man. 

“It vas yet two hours to dree o’glock, ven I should shut 
my blace, but I turn de glock right avay by dree o’clock, 
and vent home. 

“I put a mustard blastor on my pack, made my vife 
wrap a vet dowel by my neck, and go do ped. 


128 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


“ Next day ven I dells a shentlemans oof dot bad gon- 
sumpted man, he said he vas vonce a story-book writer. 

“ Dot vas vat makes me at vonce sicker. 

“But I bractice mit poxing-cloves, and a vrozen meat 
gargass in de kitchen, and if Vildemers J. St. Clair comes 
vonct more he could look owed. ” 

“ Has the English gentleman been in your place since ?” 
asked the Scotch detective, as the German ended his story. 

u Two dimes — do-night, abowd six and a half o’glock, de 
last dime. ” 

“ Do you know where he lodges ?” 

“Right away, come — I could show you.” 

The fat landlord led to a window, and continued : 

“You see dot house vere burns de street-lamp in front de 
steps? Vel, up dose steps keeps a lady a very fine, brivate 
lodgings house, and sends me much customer. And, by dot 
house, de English shentlemans sleep all de vile.” 

The two sleuth-hounds thanked the landlord for the in- 
formation he had given them, paid their bill, and departed. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE KING OF ALL SLEUTH-HOUNDS. 

Directing their steps toward the fashionable lodging- 
house opposite, the detectives perceived that although a 
light dimly burned in the hall-way, all within seemed to 
have retired for the night. 

They at once set the door-bell ringing at full pitch. 

In response a window above them, on the second floor, 
flew up with a bang, and a female who proved to be the 
landlady, popped forth her night-cap covered head, and 
demanded : 

“Who’s there?” 

“Two detectives, madam,” returned Bridger. 

“Mercy on us! What do you want ?” 

‘We wish to learn of two gentlemen who have had rooms 
with you for some days — one a tall, reddish whiskered 
man, talking in a squeaking voice, and the other a thin, 
dark-eyed man, and afflicted with a lung disease.” 

‘ ‘ Mercy on us ! And have they done any crime ? In- 
deed, I thought there was something mysterious about 
those men. And dear, oh, me ! a poor woman keeping 
apartments to let in this wicked city can’t feel safe at any 


DETECT1YE BOB BEIDGER. 


129 


time as to what villains might get into them. Were they 
murderers, thieves, defaulters, or — ” 

“ Are these men in your house now ?” 

“Oh, dear, no, sir. Thank Heaven, both went away to- 
night.” 

“ At what time ?” 

“At half-past seven .” 

“Taken their baggage away and left for good, eh?” 

u Oh, ves. They only had a trunk and two hand-satchels, 
and they took them with them upon the hack. ” 

“ Do you know where they went ?” 

“ No, sir ; they were careful to say little to me. ” 

“You thought there was something mysterious about 
those persons, madam — tell us what you mean by that ? 
Were they not friendly to each other?” 

“ I cannot say that they were unfriendly, but I will tell 
you all I know of them, and let you judge for yourselves. 
Just one week ago to-day they came here. I was sum- 
moned to the door, and found awaiting me the red-bearded 
Englishman, while the cab stood at the curb. He said that 
he had barely arrived from Europe, had seen my house 
mentioned in a pamphlet containing a list of fashionable 
boarding-houses on shipboard, and desired apartments for 
himself and for his companion who was a consumptive. 
He said they were bound to Florida, and desired quiet 
rooms to rest from their sea-voyage. I showed him a 
suite of two bedrooms and a parlor, which he at once en- 
gaged for a week, paying me in advance. I asked his 
name, and after a moment’s hesitation he said his name 
was Thompson, and that the sick man was his brother. He 
had a fire continually in the parlor, and remained much of 
the time indoors. The dark-haired sick man could barely 
speak above a whisper, and did not once quit the apart- 
ment from his coming until his going to-night. He ate but 
little, although the strong man frequently had splendid 
meals sent to his room, and the parlor table is, even now, 
covered with grapes, oranges, and all kinds of fruits, bot- 
tles of brandy, wine, beer, cakes, and even candies — show- 
ing that the invalid’s appetite had been tempted in every 
way by the strong man. ” 

“But you have not explained why you looked upon them 
as mysterious people.” 

“ Oh, the poor invalid seemed to be so unhappy, and I 
sometimes thought was fearful of his companion, who 
seemed to hold control over him. At times, too, the ser- 
vants overheard what seemed to be quarreling between the 


130 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


two, as if the sick man considered himself imposed upon. 
But these quarrels always ended by assurances and prom- 
ises on the strong man’s part, the meaning of which the 
servants did not learn*” 

“ And yet the sick man never complained or spoke to 
you concerning his affairs ?” 

“ Never. Indeed he never had an opportunity to speak to 
me, or any one, save in presence of the strong man, and on 
account of the watch which he continually kept over the 
invalid, and their seeming quarrels, I mistrusted that 
something was wrong between them. ” 

“Well, we are certainly sorry to discommode you so 
late at night, but rest assured that w r e will in no way call 
your house into public prominence because a man wanted 
by the law has lived here for a time. ” 

“ Oh, thank you, sir. For it would hurt my business ; 
don’t you think so?” 

“ But we would ask you, madam, to permit us to look at 
the rooms lately vacated by the two men, that we may see 
if anything has been left behind, which might lend a clew 
to their present whereabouts. 

“ Certainly. I will be below in an instant and let you in. ” 

A moment later the landlady, a neat little New England 
woman of middle age, appeared at the door, and admitted 
the detectives. 

The search revealed that everything had been removed 
from the apartments recently occupied by the mysterious 
lodgers save the furniture and those fruits, bottles, etc., of 
which the landlady had spoken. 

The fire in the grate had died away, and as the two 
sleuth-hounds were about turning away, Bridger picked 
from the dead coals a half-consumed wad of yellow paper. 

It proved to be an envelope of a class used by ticket 
agents to inclose railway tickets, and bore upon it the ad- 
dress of a railway ticket agency on Broadway. 

Thanking the landlady for her kindness the two detec- 
tives hastened from the house. 

They well knew that the ticket agency would be closed, 
but they found the night watchman at the number in- 
dicated, and from him learned that the agent was a single 
man, and lodged at a certain hotel. 

Hailing a passing cab they drove to this hotel at once, 
and the clerk succeeded in routing the agent from his 
slumbers. 

He remembered the man described as Videre, and had 
sold such a person two tickets to Jacksonville, Florida, via 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


131 


the Pennsylvania Railroad, Philadelphia, Baltimore and 
Washington. 

A train left at eight P. M. via that route, and he sup- 
posed the man and his companion had taken that train. 

“We will now call to our aid the king of all sleuth- 
hounds,” said Bridger, as the two detectives drove to the 
nearest all-night telegraph office. 

“ Ay,” returned the Scotch detective, “Professor Morse 
and his electric wires have captured more thieves and 
murderers than can be computed, and deserve well to be 
called so.” 

Had the mysterious voyagers continued upon the eight 
P. M. train they were due to reach Baltimore one hour 
from the moment the two sleuth-hounds entered the tele- 
graph office. 

They might have stopped off at Philadelphia. 

In Philadelphia lived Miles Barclay, in Baltimore Joel 
Parkman, two shrewd detectives, intimate friends of 
Bridger, who might be relied upon to lend their aid with 
alacrity at his appeal. 

He telegraphed Barclay to find out if the parties 
“wanted” had stopped off in Philadelphia, and to hold 
them if they had. 

A second dispatch to Parkman bade him search the train 
on its arrival at Baltimore, and hold the parties if found. 

An hour later came a telegram from Parkman, saying 
that he had searched the train at the Baltimore depot, and 
had found no such people on board. 

Soon after came a dispatch from Barclay, saying that he 
could find no trace of the men “ wanted” in Philadelphia, 
and that they had certainly not stopped off in that city. 

On receiving these telegrams Bridger was puzzled. 

Spreading a railway map upon the counter in the tele- 
graph office, he asked the Scotch detective’s opinion. 

“ The railways and the wires you must work yourself, for 
you know the country best,” said the Scotch detective. 
“But of one thing rest assurd — Videre has made known, or 
has attempted to make known, his coming and arrival to 
Bolard, of whose death he is doubtless in ignorance. And 
since he has determined to rid himself of Alfonse Godot’s 
claims, his plan must also extend to Annette and Dr. 
Macy. He has therefore attempted to inform Bolard of 
the danger threatening the estate he holds in England, and 
instructed him to join him a-t some point, possibly in com- 
pany with Annette.” 

“Taking that view, which is a sound one,” returned 


132 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEB. 


Bridger, “ it is possible that Videre altered his course at 
Philadelphia, and is now travleing westward upon the con- 
necting train of the Pennsylvania Central. ” 

At that moment the operator received a second dispatch 
from Barclay to Bridger. 

It read : 

“Have found that a man answeiing the description of the English- 
man purchased two tickets for Cincinnati, and is on Penn. Central 
train, now west of Harrisburg.” 

Ned Hoffman, the famous Chicago detective, and 
Bridger’ s intimate friend, was at the time engaged in se- 
cret serivce work for the Government, and stopping at the 
Monongahela House in Pittsburg, Pa. 1 

Bridger at once telegraphed to Hoffman to be on hand at 
the arrival of the train, and to hold the men u wanted” if 
they were passengers thereon. 

An hour later Bridger received Hoffman’s answer, as- 
suring him that he would do as requested, and being weary, 
the two sleuth-hounds drove to the Bond street rooms, and 
were soon soundly slumbering. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

AT THE POST-OFFICE. 

At sunrise Bridger and the Scotch detective were up 
and ready for business. 

This day they determined to make another effort to un- 
earth the lurking place of the abductors of Annette, and 
release the fair captive. 

Realizing that the day might bring them in contact with 
desperate men, they prepared themselves accordingly. 

Their dress was the same as they had worn on the night 
previous, but white shirts took the place of the blue ones. 

In their pockets they placed several extra pairs of steel 
manacles, gags, hempen cords, and each carried a brace of 
revolvers, and a small dark lantern. 

Calling first at the St. Nicholas Hotel, they sat at break- 
fast with Dr. Macy, and narrated to him the experience of 
the past night. 

As on the evening previous, the detectives painted every- 
thing in its brightest colors, and, on leaving the anxious old 
man, promised to lose no time in reporting to him the out- 
come of the day’s search. 


J DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEE. 


133 


The detectives then visited the telegraph office at which 
they had operated during the past night. 

Bridger left orders that any telegram which might ar- 
rive for him during the day should be sent at once to the 
post-office, and delivered to either himself or the Scotch de- 
tective. 

The cashier brought forward several messenger boys, and 
they were instructed that they would find one or the other 
oi the detectives at the general delivery window, at the 
post-office, if dispatched thither. 

The two sleuth-hounds then repaired to the post-office. 
They found the postmaster’s assistant in his office, and 
communicated their business to him. 

“ The letter you forwarded to be remailed from Cory- 
don,” said he, u has not, as yet, had time to reach New 
York. However, if you desire to establish your watch to- 
day, gentlemen, a decoy letter can be prepared. Here are 
writing materials — write, inclose, and address the letter as 
you think best. A three-cent stamp can then be placed 
upon it, that stamped, so that no one might know whence 
it came, and the letter be placed in readiness to suit your 
purpose in the general delivery. ” 

The Scotch detective wrote a hasty note, inclosed it in a 
stamped envelope, and addressed the envelope to : 
u Mrs. Margaret Bolard, New York city.” 

The postmaster took the decoy letter, departed from the 
office, and soon after returned accompanied by the clerk at 
the T window of the general delivery, whom he introduced. 

u Tell me,” asked the Scotch detective, addressing the 
young man. “ Do you remember of having heard any one 
call for letters for this Mrs. Margaret Bolard lately ?” 

u The name has been called for almost daily, I think,” re- 
turned the clerk. “ But so many names are called for that 
I cannot positively remember.” 

u Then you have no idea what description of person has 
called for the name ?” 
u No, sir. I have not.” 

“But you will not forget the name, ‘Margaret Bolard,’ 
to day ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“I have instructed the young man,” said the post- 
master, “ that you will remain without his window during 
the day, and that should the letter be called for he shall 
repeat the name, ‘ Margaret Bolard, ’ distinctly before de- 
livering it, that you may readily know when it is being 
called for.” 


134 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED.. 


“ Thank you, and will the young man be on duty at this 
window during the entire day ?” 

“ Should he be relieved he will transmit his instructions,” 
returned the official, “ and, I think, gentlemen, that you can 
proceed on your Avatch, assured that we will thus aid you 
as far as we may. ” 

Thanking the postmaster the two detectives soon after 
joined the noisy, hurrying throngs that all day beset the 
New York post-office, and taking a position near the T win- 
dow, assumed to be two travelers, intent on the points of a 
railway map. 

Patiently, for two hours, they held their wearisome 
watch in the hope of beholding the decoy letter delivered, 
but the day passed until three in the afternoon without 
event. 

About this time a newsboy passed through the building, 
bearing a bundle of the afternoon papers, one of which 
Bridger purchased. 

Almost the first item that struck the detective’s eye was 
one among the telegraphic news, and read as follows : 

“An unknown man, dressed as a gentleman, was found dead this 
morning in a cut near Alton, Pa., after the passage of the express train 
west. He had the appearance of a consumptive, and it is supposed 
that in attempting to cross the platforms of the cars his strength failed 
him, and he fell from fhe train.” 

“ What do you make of that?” said Bridger, passing the 
paper to the Scotch detective. 

“Bad, Bobe — bad!” returned Fandon, as he glanced at 
the item. 

“Wait where you are,” said Bridger, “and I will find out 
about it. ” 

Saying so Bridger hastened to a telegraph office in Wall 
street, for the events I narrate occurred in the old Nassau 
street post-office. 

Hence, he telegraphed the coroner at Alton to view the 
body found, and, if there was a mark in India-ink upon 
the dead man’s breast, to place the body privately on ice, 
and notify him. 

Returning to the post-office, he found the Scotch detec- 
tive industriously at his post, and perceived that he smiled 
as he approached him. 

“We’ll know about the body soon,” said Bridger. 

“Ay, but here we have other news,” returned the Scotch 
detective, presenting a telegram which a messenger boy 
had brought him during Bridger ’s absence. 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


135 


It was from Detective Ned Hoffman, at Pittsburgh, and 
ran as follows : 

“ Have men described at police headquarters. They give their names 
as Pere Videre and Alfonse Godot. Train arrived four hours late. 
Answer.” 

“ And did you answer it ?” asked Bridger. 

“Yes, over your name.” 

“ Right. What did you say ?” 

“ Hold men until I arrive. Large interest at stake, affording ample 
pay for trouble. Will wire you by and by.” 

“ Good !” returned Bridger, and again the two detectives 
turned their attention to the line of letter-seekers at the 
window. 

Two hours passed fruitlessly, and the porters began to 
light the gas in^he building. 

Suddenly a delivery boy from the Wall street telegraph 
office darted in and placed a second telegram in Bridger’ s 
hands. 

Tearing it hastily open the detective perceived that it 
was from the Alton coroner, and read : 

‘‘Have viewed the body as asked. Find two English flags wrought 
in red ink, and the name Alfonse Godot in blue ink, upon the dead 
man’s breast. Body on ice. Answer.” 

Bridger passed the telegram to the Scotch detective. 

Fandon read it, and shook his head. 

Bridger swiftly penciled an answer, placed a bill in the 
messenger’s hand, and bade him haste away, and have it 
instantly dispatched. 

As he turned again toward the Scotch detective he per- 
ceived that he had advanced closely toward the T window, 
and held his hand in a way to insure silence on Bridger ’s 
part. 

On the instant the clerk’s voice at the window said dis- 
tinctly : 

“A letter for Margaret Bolard, New York city, you say?” 

“Yes, sir,” was the answer. 

And the detectives perceived at the head of the line 
without the window a shabby little Hebrew man, whom 
they at once recognized as Sammy Muggins, the patent 
butter enthusiast. 

On receiving the letter which the clerk promptly handed 
him, Sammy stepped briskly aside from the line, carefully 
deposited the epistle in an interior pocket of his ulster, and 


136 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


casting his sharp, rat-eyes about toward the window 
whence he had received it, passed through the door- way to 
the street. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

WHERE THE LETTER CARRIER LED. 

As might be supposed, Sammy Muggins * did not depart 
from the post-office alone. 

The street lamps had been lighted for some time, and the 
night was dark and damp. 

Throngs of shop hands, clerks, and laborers filled the 
sidewalks, returning from their day’s labor. 

Sammy Muggins shambled on in a sort of dog-trot 
through Nassau street, through Chatham and East Broad- 
way, to Catherine. 4 

Turning to the right upon Catherine street, he entered a 
grocery store. 

A few minutes later he emerged from the grocery, bear- 
ing a basket upon his arm. 

Reaching East Broadway, he continued up that street for 
some distance. 

Suddenly pausing before a somber, old-fashioned brick 
dwelling, he ascended the stone steps thereof, and, after 
peering cautiously to the right and left to see if his move- 
ments might attract attention, he raised the cane he carried 
and tapped lightly upon the window to his right with its 
iron tip. 

The next instant the door was opened by a woman, 
Sammy and his basket disappeared from sight within and 
the door was shut, locked, and bolted after him. 

In the shadow of the buildings on the opposite side of the 
street, the Scotch detective and Bridger had paused, sur- 
veying the house, and laying their plans for entering it. 

From where they stood the dwelling seemed to be with- 
out an occupant. 

Not a ray of light shone from any of the windows, but, 
as they cautiously crossed the street toward it, the sleuth- 
hounds perceived that through the interstices between the 
wooden shutters that barred the windows of the basement 
a faint glimmer bravely strove with the dirty glass to shine 
forth into the dark world without. 

In the basement was evidently a cheap clothing store, 
but, being Saturday, it was closed, and the light within 
seemed to be far back from the street. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


137 


The window above, on which Sammy Muggins had tapped 
for admission, was carefully guarded by a thick curtain, 
so that no light might penetrate forth. 

Ascending the stone steps the detectives listened at the 
keyhole of the door, and heard a subdued conversation 
going on, as if in a room directly to the right of the hall- 
way, and evidently between the woman and Sammy. 

Soon after Sammy came forth from the room, and its 
door closed after him. 

The sound of his footsteps grew fainter as they receded 
from the door, and it was evident that he had followed the 
dark hall-way to the rear, and was descending to the base- 
ment beneath. 

A moment later Bridger’s eye at the keyhole beheld a 
flash of light burst, as if from an open door, and light the 
rear hall-way. 

Then came distinctly the surly growl of a dog, and the 
hum of voices from the same direction. 

Then the light vanished, and all was still. 

“Sammy has joined Moses in the rear basement,” whis- 
pered Bridger, “ and it would seem they have a surly brute 
of a dog down there with them. But we have no time to 
lose. So here goes. ” 

Taking from his pocket a pair of manacles, Bridger 
leaned forward over the iron railing of the steps, and 
tapped lightly with the hard steel on the window-pane, in 
imitation of Sammy’s signal. 

The door from the room to the right of the hall-way 
opened at once, and some one came forth from it. 

The next instant the key turned in the lock of the door, 
the bolt slid back, the door opened cautiously, and a young 
Hebrew woman appeared in the half-open door-way. 
u Does Moses Muggins reside here ?” asked Bridger, in a 
low voice. 

“Yes. Yat you vant?” returned the woman. 

“I have been told he has rooms to let here,” quoth 
Bridger, planting his foot softly over the sill, and against 
the door. 

“You vas told wrong. Ye have no rooms to let,” she re- 
plied, eying the detectives keenly. 

“Well, could we come in and see Mr. Muggins? We are 
his friends.” 

“ He vas not in. Nobody vas in. I vas Moses Muggins’ 
daughter, Rachel. If you vant any vord vid him you could 
leave it by me. ” 

“Well, the truth is I have an important matter of busi* 


138 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


ness with him. It is of a secret nature, but, as you are his 
daughter, I can tell you. But — pardon me ! — I must whis- 
per it, so that no one may overhear. ” 

As he spoke Bridger pushed closer toward Bachel, as if 
to whisper in her ear. 

The young woman seemed to divine that all was not 
right, for she made an effort to slam shut the door and 
scream, just as Bridger swiftly circled her body, pressed 
her arms helplessly to her side, and planted his right hand 
over her mouth and nostrils. 

It was the work of a moment to convey the captive, 
Bachel, into the room adjoining, close, and lock the doors. 

This was accomplished by the two agile sleuth-hounds 
almost without noise, buc a deep growl from beneath told 
that the Jew’s dog had snuffed danger overhead. 

The room the detectives had entered was evidently 
Eachel’s sitting-room, bed-chamber, and kitchen in one. 

A lamp burned dimly on a mantel shelf above a cook- 
stove, upon which several pots and kettles were steaming. 

As the Scotch detective secured the room door, and 
turned again to Bridger’ s assistance, he stood in the center 
of the room, firmly holding the struggling girl. 

Placing his lips to her ear, he whispered : 

“Pardon me, Miss Rachel, for this rudeness. We are de- 
tective officers, and mean you no harm. ” 

On hearing this the young woman’s struggles ceased, 
and Bridger continued : 

“We must bind and gag you until we have searched the 
house.” 

At this point Rachel intimated, by a nasal sound, that 
she wished to speak. 

Bridger suddenly drew aside his hand from her mouth, 
but kept it ready for instant application. 

“Who are you after — my fadder?” whispered the tremb- 
ling girl. 

“No. We are after the tall, silly-looking thief who lives 
here.” 

“ Vat you say ? You vant told me he vas a tief ?” 

Bridger nodded assent. 

“ Sure — sure my fadder know not dot, or ve vould send 
him long ago quick avay. ” 

This speech, in defense of her father’s integrity, the 
frightened young woman spoke in a key several degrees 
above a whisper, and the dog barked fiercely beneath. 

Bridger placed his hand in close proximity to the girl’s 
mouth, and gave his head a threatening nod. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. ’ 139 

“ Speak in a whisper !” he commanded. “ And now tell 
me if your father did not know this man^s business, how 
came he to let him rooms in this house ?” 

“ I vould have you to know”, returned Rachel, “ dat I 
give de man rooms, by myself, and my fadder vas down 
stairs by de cloding store. Dot silly man come von even- 
ing vid his vife and daughter, and ve have, dot time, three 
rooms idle on de floor above, and dey vas quite shenteel 
beople, I tink, so I let de rooms. ” 

“Well, if you didn’t know this man as a thief, how did 
you suppose he lived ?” 

“ Veil, I could see dat de daughter vas a sweet, innocent 
young woman, and de man vas a silly-minded, strong man, 
and dat de Irish voman have plenty money vid her. Could 
you make of such beoples tiefs? Vould you not see how 
such beople might live ?” 

“Such talk,” said Bridger, “would do if you were a law- 
yer or witness at court. But we are detectives, and know 
that you, your father, and Sammy, all know that this silly 
man is a thief. ” 

“Veil, I told you it vas a lie vat you say,” returned 
Rachel, angrily, pitching her voice above a whisper. “Vat 
it is more, if dis man was a tief, quick, right avay, should 
he get avay by de house ! I vould go right avay so you 
shall get him. Or, if you vant it, shust let me call loud 
vonce, and he come here, and you get him. Oh, dere vid — ” 

And before Bridger could shut off the young woman’s 
utterance she had begun, in loud accents, her proposed 
summons. 

“Rachel,” said Bridger, winking at the daughter of 
Moses, in acknowledgment of her shrewdness, as his hand 
once more enforced her to silence, “ you will excuse me, 
but we will have to muzzle you. ” 

Placing the girl on her bed in the corner, the two detec- 
tives speedily bound and gagged her in such a manner that 
she could not move or utter a cry. 

Barely had they accomplished this task when the dog be- 
neath uttered a series of vicious yelps, sounding as if the 
basement door had been opened. 

A moment later a stealthy, cat-like step approached in 
the hall-way without, and a rap came upon the door of the 
room. 

Then a voice without whispered, hoarsely : 

“Miss Rachel ! Miss Rachel !” 

“ Hush !” quoth the Scotch detective in Bridger’s ear. 
“ It is the voice of the crazy giant. ” 


140 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN. 

Again came the tap on the door, and again the voice 
said, in low tones : 

u Miss Rachel ! Miss Rachel !” 

The angry yelps of the fierce brute beneath now rang out 
harshly throughout the hall-ways of the house. 

A moment later a voice like that of Moses Muggins called 
out from the stairway at the rear : 

“ Ho dere vid you, Rachel ! Vat vas de matter dere ?” 

The Scotch detective turned low the lamp on the mantel, 
and the two sleuth-hounds softly approached the door. 

As they did so the sound of ‘‘Silly” Billy's footsteps, as 
he walked to the rear of the hall way, reached their ears. 

“Vas dat you, Rachel, I called!” shouted the voice of 
Moses Muggins again. 

“No, ’e, ’e ! honly me,” said “Silly” Billy. “Misses sent 
me for the groceries. ” 

“Veil, and a letter Sammy has also brought her.” 

“Letter? ’e, ’e ! She will be glad/” 

“ I should tink so. Quiet there, Kaiser ! Quiet, I say ! 
I never vind him make such noise ven you come down be- 
fore — quiet, you scoundrel dog ! Kaiser ! Brute ! Come 
down vid me, and I give you de tings. ” 

An instant afterward the yelps of the dog became more 
subdued, and the detectives surmised that the twain had 
entered the basement beneath, and closed the door after 
them. 

This left the dark hall-way without clear, and the sleuth- 
hounds stole softly forth ; Bridger locking in the captive, 
Rachel, and placing the key of the apartment in his pocket. 

Opening the eye of the dark lantern which he carried, 
the Scotch detective threw its light along the hall-way to 
the rear. 

A stair-way led at its farthest end below, and one also 
ascended to the floor above. 

Cautiously the two sleuth-hounds approached, and as- 
cended the iatter stair- way. 

As they did so the dog's bark sounded more viciously 
than before, and they could hear the rattle of his chain as 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


141 


he exerted himself to be free and demonstrate to his mas- 
ter that something unusual was going on. 

Arriving in the upper hall-way, the detectives perceived 
that it was in size the same as that beneath. 

A stair-way at their left led to the upper house, to the 
right and rear were dead walls, and to the left were three 
doors leading, as the sleuth-hounds supposed, to the three 
apartments occupied by Billy, Meg Bolard, and Annette. 

As the detectives advanced up the hall-way they heard 
voices within the apartment to which the third door opened. 

Suddenly the noise of the dog ended in a whine, as if his 
master had whipped him to silence. 

The conversation then came plainly from the room to the 
ears of the sleuth-hounds, as with bated breath they stood 
listening without the door. 

It became evident at once that the parties within were 
no other than Meg Bolard and Annette. 

u You can’t stand it any longer, eh? Is that what you 
say to mo, me foine lady? Well, you’ll have to stand it, 
the same as mesilf, thin,” said the harsh voice of Meg Bo- 
lard. 

“ Oh, but it is so horrible to live here, hiding from all the 
world this way,” returned the musical voice of Annette. 
“I’d rather be in a genuine prison, Mam Meg, than here. 
Besides, we might live in many better places than this, 
where we would be at no one’s mercy, and could walk out 
and be at liberty, without danger of the piano-tuner find- 
ing us.” 

“You think so? You think so, eh?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Well, bad luck to ye, my little darling, it’s mesilf well 
knows that that piano-tuner you spake so often of is. more 
than a piano tuner. A detective he is, and from the Scot- 
land Yard, London — there, for ye ! An’ he’s after yer 
father, an’ me, an’ Billy, to ruin us all wid a trumped-up 
charge to make money. And phat’s more, I belaves that 
ye knew he was such whin ye come wid him from Corydon 
on the thrain. And it’s mesilf belaves ye’d be glad if he’d 
pop right in on us here. Answer me the truth then, wid 
you — am I right ?” 

Meg’s voice had grown violent, and when she had ended 
speaking there was a pause for a moment. 

Then came Annette’s answer, as soft and solemn as if it 
were a prayer to Heaven. 

“For my part,” she said, “I would pray it turn so.” 

“What? You ungrateful hussy ! Wad ye consign yer 


142 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


poor mother that gave ye birth, and has rared ye a soft 
dartin’, to a prison wid yer prayer?” 

u No, Mam Meg, for you have always been kind to me, 
and my prayer is that both you and I may escape prison. 
For that reason I wish you to leave here, and I pray that 
the man from Scotland Yard may be directed here before 
Billy’s crimes place us all in prison.” 

“ Billy’s crimes ! In prison ! What do you mane ?” 

“ Has not Billy robbed people in New York?” 

“Bobbed people in New York ! What do you mane?” 

u What has he been doing when he has gone from the 
house at night, and brought money back with him ?” 

“ Workin’ ! workin’ ! of course — what else?” 

“Stealing, Mam Meg, stealing ! It is idle to deceive me.” 

“ Decave you ! Why, me foine little lady, you take the 
breath from me wid your catechism. What gave you to 
think this of Billy ?” 

“My eyes.” 

“Your eyes? Well, go on — spake it out ! spake it out !” 

“Mam Meg, when that old Jew saw that we kept close in 
doors, and sent out for everything, he thought there was 
something wrong about us — that we were striving to keep 
hidden from the law. ” 

“Yis, yis; spake it out.” 

“Well, he raised the rent from ten dollars a week to 
fifty, didn’t he ?” 

“ Yis. And what did I say to the ould villain ?” 

“ You said that you could not pay the amount, though you 
had plenty of money, and could do it. ” 

“ Yis, and if I told the old vagabond that, how quick would 
he raised the rint agin, . and had ivery cint from me ? But 
go on ! go on !” 

“Well, you said you’d have to send Billy out to work, 
and see if he could raise rent money for you, didn’t you?” 

“Yis, I did. Goon! Goon!” 

“Then the old Jew turned to Billy, and asked him if he 
could do any work. And Billy winked at you, and then at 
the old Jew, and suddenly seizing the old Jew from behind, 
held him tightly, while he pretended to be stealing from 
his pockets.” 

“Yis — and what of that?” 

“Why, then Billy, and the old Jew, and you, roared out 
laughing — and the old Jew said that there would be no 
doubt that the rest would come. Then he took Billy down 
stairs with him, and that night Billy went out, and since 
then there has been no more talk about the rent. But this 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


143 


night you can rest assured that there are scores of detec- 
tives in New York eager to catch Billy, and suppose they 
should come here after us ?” 

“ Hi !” shrieked Meg. “ Annette Bolard, mark ye this ! 
I’ve niver laid finger on yez yet. And, though it’s a hard 
thing for a mother to say to her own, if iver ye name de- 
tectives to me in this way again, I’ll raise a chair, and 
lave ye a corpse at me feet !” 

While Meg thus vented her wrath in a violent tone the 
Scotch detective softly turned the door-knob, and found 
that the door was unlocked. 

The angry woman had evidently raised a chair in a 
threatening manner, as if to impress her threat on Annette, 
for, in a calm voice, the threatened girl answered : 

“ Mam Meg, I am not in fear that you will harm me. 
You, a woman so good, who lifted me when a tiny, witless 
babe, from the arms of my mother, when she fell dead on 
the threshold, starved on her husband’s father’s estates, 
and have since reared me while those who murdered my 
grandfather have ofttimes importuned you to permit my 
murder — you will not harm me now. ” 

The chair fell with a crash from Meg Bolard ’s grasp upon 
the floor, and she stammered forth, in evident terror : 

“ My God ! Annette, who told you this ?” 

“I did,” said the Scotch detective, throwing wide the 
door, and walking into the room, followed by Bridger. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE RESCUE. 

Annette, in a calico robe, the picture of a pretty, ani- 
mated maid of all work, stood near the stove in the front 
part of the room, looking after some food in preparation 
thereon. 

Upon a table in the center of the apartment burned a 
lamp. 

Near it was an easy-chair, upon which Meg had been sit- 
ting and sewing. 

Before it stood the excited woman, glaring at Annette. 

The chair which she had raised as if to strike Annette 
lay near by, broken npon the floor. 

Both recognized the man from Scotland Yard on the in- 
stant, and both gave vent to a startled scream. 

Then Annette, with a cry of joy, as if the hope of an age 


144 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB, 


had suddenly poured all its golden treasures in reality on 
the instant to her gaze, bounded forward and threw herself 
in the Scotch detective’s arms. 

“Oh, Fandon ! It is you, ain’t it, Fandon?” she cried. 
“You have followed us until you have found us, haven’t 
you ? Oh, how I have prayed for this ! You will never, 
never leave me now, will you? Promise me you will 
never leave me again. ” 

“ Never !” said the Scotch detective, as he clasped the 
maiden to his breast, kissed her fondly, and a manly tear 
dimmed his bright, black eye. 

Meg threw her hands wildly above her head, her eyes 
glaring in terror, and staggering back, half fell, half threw 
herself in the chair near the table. 

u In the name of mercy, what do it all mane ?” she cried. 

“It means this,” said Bridger, displaying his badge, 
“that Pere Videre has been arrested for his share in the 
killing of old Godot, and that Bolard, your late husband, 
rather than submit to arrest, killed himself. ” 

“ Killed himself ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And what, thin, are yez going to do wid us ?” 

“ This, Meg”, said the Scotch detective, coming forward, 
followed by Annette, and kindly lifting Meg’s hand in his : 
“ If you will do what I ask you to do I assure you that you 
shall not enter a prison, and that you shall return to Gar- 
son and possess your dead husabnd’s lands and property, 
and live there in peace.” 

“ He is dead, then ?” she asked. 

“Yes, as my brother officer has informed you, he killed 
himself through fear of arrest the same night that you, 
Billy, and Annette left Garson on the train.” 

“ And will you put Billy to prison ?” 

“No, Meg, I’ll promise you that also,” returned the 
Scotch detective. “ He has robbed men in this city, as you 
know, but I blame the Jews down stairs for that, and will 
shield Billy, and make them pay for it. ” 

“And so they should, the blood-sucking vagabonds!” 
said Meg, as the tears flowed fast down her cheeks. “ And 
Annette will tell yez licrsilf that they raised me rint, and 
charged over-price for ivery bit to ate we sint for, when 
they found we were hiding, and that they set Billy at it.” 

“ There, there, Mam Meg !” quoth Annette, throwing her 
arms about Meg’s neck, and kissing her. “Did not I tell 
you that the man from Scotland Yard would bring us rest 
and happiness? And I know, Mam Meg, that what he 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


145 


promises you he will do for you. He has promised to be 
my husband, Mam Meg, and I know he would not tell you, 
who have been so good to me, anything but the truth. ” 

“ And what do yez want me to do for ye ?” asked Meg, 
somewhat assured. 

“ Only that you and Billy go with us to court, and say 
whether it is the true Pere Videre that the officers have 
in charge.” 

u And where is the court — in England ?” 

u No, not many miles from New York.” 

“An’ indade, if it’s him, we’d quick say that. Sure 
nather of us is anyways beholdin’ to the squalin’ villain.” 

“You will do it, then?” 

“ Av course I’ll do’t — and is that all?” 

“No. You must manage Billy so that he will be willing 
to go with us from this house to the hotel. ” 

“ Oh, lave that to me. Whist ! for there he is. ” 

A gentle tap sounded upon the door without as Meg spoke. 

“We’ll step aside in this room,” whispered the Scotch 
detective. “ And, Annette, you go on with your work at 
the stove. And remember, Meg, as soon as Billy is safe in 
lock the door, for the Jews might come up before we are 
ready for them. ” 

So saying the Scotch detective and Bridger stepped aside 
into the dark bedroom adjoining, while Meg approached 
the door, permitted “Silly” Billy to enter, and locked it be- 
hind him. 

Barely had she done so when, yelping like a beast of 
prey, the fierce mastiff, dragging his broken chain, came 
flying up the stair- way, and bounded fiercely against the 
door. 

There he stood, baying and scratching the floor, like a 
blood-hound who had driven his prey to cover. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A CRITICAL MOMENT. 

“ I doesn’t know what hails the dog !” said Billy, taking 
off his hat, and a broad" smile overspread his countenance. 

And as he removed the cover from the basket he carried 
and came gently forward toward Meg he appeared any- 
thing else than the fierce and daring highwayman who had 
pounced like a tiger upon his prey, and baffled the police 
force of a great city. 


146 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


“But, lo ! see ’ere, Misses Meg,” he added, “I is got you 
a letter !” 

A letther ! from me ould man, I suppose. And let me 
read it, thin !” 

And Meg took the decoy letter from Billy’s hand, and 
tore it open. 

“And ’ere, Misses Hannette,” continued Billy, approach- 
ing Annette, “ ’ere I is got you some sugar, coffee, greens, 
and a turkey. And a box of sugar candy, and lots of good 
things. See-ree-go ! what feastings we’ll ’avej ” 

Annette received the basket of provisions and set them 
aside, while her bright eyes glanced continually through 
the door- way into the dark room where the waiting sleuth- 
hounds stood, as if she had determined not to permit the 
Scotch detective to far escape her eyesight again. 

“ As sure as I live, ” quoth Meg, elevating her voice above 
the clamor of the dog without, “ the old man is dead !” 

“What? Who?” asked Billy. 

“ Why, me old man, Bolard, or whativer his name was. 
And it’s more than his wife of twinty years could tell.” 

“ Master Bolard dead !” exclaimed Billy. 

“ Yis,” returned Meg, “ as dead as an ould salt mackerel !” 

“Klick!” ejaculated Billy, imitating the hangman’s 
method by swirling his right hand about his neck, and 
jerking it upward. 

“ Quack !” returned Meg, dashing her hand across her 
throat, as a suicide might do in slashing his windpipe. 

Strange to say, on thus learning of Bolard ’s death Billy 
suddenly burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, fairly 
clapping his hands and dancing in idiotic glee. 

“ What ! you unmannerly vagabond ! Do you see the 
villain, Annette? glad to the face of a poor widow that’s 
just heard the shockin’ intelligence of her husband’s 
death ?” quoth Meg. 

“Shame, Billy,” said Annette, “Dad Bolard was always 
good to you, Billy. ” 

“Sometimes,” quoth Billy, sobering down somewhat. 
“ Ho ! no, I is not glad. Poor Dad Bolard !” 

Then, unable to control his real feelings, he burst again 
into laughter, clapped his hands, and danced about in the 
greatest glee. 

Annette and Meg could not restrain themselves, and 
burst forth in merry peals of laughter as well. 

Bridger and the Scotch detective also laughed quietly at 
the crazy giant’s antics, and had Bolard’s spirit at that mo- 
ment visited the vicinity it had oert^iiUy wished success 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


147 


to the yelping brute without that snapped and bounded 
against the door, as if in hope to break it in, and tear 
those within to pieces. 

“Was hit in the letter?” asked Billy, pausing a moment 
in his dance, near Meg. 

“Yis,” answered Meg, “and if you will give over your 
outrageous nonsense for a moment I’ll rade it to you.” 

Billy subsided to a quiet giggle, and Meg continued : 

“ Listen, you, now !” 

“ ‘ Wife Meg:’ says he, ‘I write to inform you that I have met wid 
a serious accident. The truth is, I cut me throat wid a corn-knife 
rather than be arrested for murderin’ old Jean Godot, and I am now 
dead. Yours, elsewhere, 

“‘Harvey Bolard, otherwise Iron Mike Drugo.’ 

“So you see,” added Meg, never for an instant wonder- 
ing how a dead man might write a letter, “ we have it from 
his own lips that he is dead. And — howld yer antics now 
— this noight we are to lave this place, go back to Garson, 
and I be landlady of the hotel”. 

“ Silly” Billy rubbed his hands together, and simpered in 
glee, at this bit of information. 

Then his face suddenly became serious, and turning his 
glance toward the door whereat the dog continued to yelp, 
he said : 

“ They told me I should work to-night !” 

“ Thin I tell you, you shall niver work to-night, nor niver 
ag’in, for thim, the blood-sucking villains !” 

Billy smiled as if pleased to hear this, and said : 

“ Maybe they will make you send me, Misses Meg*. ” 

“No, they won’t ! I’ve a man here wid me now that you 
know, Billy, and he’ll attend to thim. And he promises — 
do you moind now, Billy — that if you do what he says, and 
go wid him, like a dacent man, we’ll nather of us see the 
insoide of a prison, but go right off and live in the hotel 
forever. ” 

Billy’s eyes filled with wonder as Meg spoke, and he 
glanced about the room in a startled manner, as if expect- 
ing to see the person spoken of. 

“Will you be dacent, thin, and do what’s bid ye?” de- 
manded Meg. 

“Where is ’e?” demanded Billy. 

“It is I, Billy,” said the Scotch detective, stepping 
through the door- way into the light as he spoke, and ex- 
tending his hand. “You know me, Billy, and know that I 
always speak the truth.” 


148 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


The broad frame of the crazy giant trembled violently as 
he placed his brainy hand in the Scotch detective’s grasp, 
his eyes darted about as if looking for a method of escape, 
and he whispered, weirdly : 

“ See-ree go. Master Fandon, see-ree-go !” 

Here was a critical moment. 

If the idiot’s brain possessed reason enough to compre- 
hend that the Scotch detective wanted to befriend him, 
and not to cast him in prison as before all would be well. 

If, however, through fear and excitement, he became a 
frenzied maniac, and used his great strength in a fancied 
hope to baffle the two sleuth-hounds, there was but one 
way to deal with him. 

In that case the detectives felt that it would be a danger- 
ous experiment against life and limb to pit themselves 
against the crazy giant’s skill in personal battle and the 
ponderous power of his sinewy frame. 

Should he prove unsubmissive and attempt hostilities 
against the Scotch detective it had been arranged that 
Bridger should on the instant shoot him down. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

CONQUERED BY KINDNESS. 

Meg saw the danger of the moment, and as the brawny 
footpad’s eyes rolled wildly in his head like those of an 
angry wild beast she sprang forward, and threw her arms 
about his neck. 

“ Oh, Billy !” she cried. “ What do you mane ? Won’t ye 
be goin’ wid me back to the hotel to live like an honest 
man ? I tell ye, ye shall niver see the inside of a prison. 
And mark ye, now, Detective Fandon that stands wid us 
now is my friend, and he is your friend. Sure he was 
only after ould Bolard, the dead man, for the murder in 
England, and, since he’s dead, he don’t want us.” 

“No, that he don’t, Billy,” quoth Annette, placing her 
hands upon the Scotch detective’s shoulder, and resting 
her head upon her arms. “And, look you, Billy, I’ll tell 
you a secret — he only wants me. He and I are to be mar- 
ried, and you and Mam Meg are to be at the wedding.” 

The mad glare in the crazy giant’s eye slowly departed 
under the assurance thus timely offered by Meg and An- 
nette. 

He knew that they had never deceived him, and it began 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEB. 


149 


to dawn upon his diseased brain that had the Scotch detec- 
tive intended his arrest he would at once have clasped 
manacles upon his wrists. 

It was not the prison, however, but the pillory and the 
lash, that he feared. 

He did not speak, but seemed to be reasoning, with all 
the brain power he possessed, and endeavoring to convince 
himself that he was not in danger of the dreaded “ cat. ” 

Slowly his eyes, which had been fixed on Meg’s face, 
turned from her toward the Scotch detective. 

Then, for the first, he perceived Bridger as he emerged 
from the dark door-way, and, with a cry of terror, he 
started forward, fell upon his knees, clasped the Scotch de- 
tective’s right hand in both of his, and, with an imploring 
look, cried out : 

u There, Master Fandon ! there ’e is, too ! ’e was with you 
in Millbank jail when I was flogged before. Don’t let them 
whip me ! Don’t let them whip me ! Don’t let them whip 
me !” 

“Billy,” said the Scotch detective, “did I ever tell you 
a lie?” 

“ See-ree-go ! Master Fandon ! Don’t let them whip me !” 

“ Did I not say to the magistrate in England that such 
as you should not be whipped ?” 

“ See-ree-go ! Master Fandon !” 

“Did I not make the keeper, who flogged you at Mill- 
bank, lay it on lightly ?” 

“ See-ree-go ! Master Fandon !” 

“And did he not do it?” 

“See ree-go, Master Fandon !” 

“Then, I tell you now, Billy, that I am your friend. 
There are men after you, in New York, but they don’t 
know you, and I won’t let them know you. It was the 
Jews’ fault that you went forth nights. So, do you just 
what Misses Meg says, and you shall go back in peace, and 
live at the hotel. ” 

Glancing toward the door, at which the fierce mastiff 
continued to yelp savagely, Billy said : 

“ Must I work for ’em to-night ?” 

“No,” returned the Scotch detective, pointing toward 
Bridger. “He and I will take care of him.” 

“And didn’t I tell ye that same, ye villain ! Get up wid 
ye now, ” said Meg, “ for as soon as Detective Fandon and 
his friend get these Jews from our way we’re bound to a 
good hotel for supper.” 


150 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


“ I believe hit’s all true,” said Billy, suddenly rising to 
his feet, and rubbing bis bands together in glee. 

Complete confidence had seemed to dawn upon bis idiotic 
brain as abruptly as the sudden fear of the lash bad de- 
pressed it, and he began to dance and caper about as hap- 
pily as when he had heard of Bolard’s death. 

“ Whist ! it’s all right now !” whispered Meg in the Scotch 
detective’s ear. “ He believes us. I could wind him about 
me finger now loike a dish cloth, and so could you. He’d 
go to blazes for aither of us. ” 

At this moment to vary the tumult made by the fierce 
dog without a loud rap came upon the door, and a voice 
demanded : 

“Ho, dere, vid you, Misses Bolards ! Who vas talking 
Vid you? De dog smells out de crooked business, and 
vants m vid it. Who got you dare, I say, vid you ?” 

“Whist! it’s the voice of Moses Muggins!” whispered 
Meg. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE “FENCE” AND HIS DOG. 

At the sound of Muggins’ voice the crazy giant suddenly 
paused in front of the door, as if intently listening. 

Annette clung closely to the Scotch detective in terror. 

Fandon carefully trimmed his dark-lantern. 

“ Open de door quick ! You hear vot I speak, Misses 
Bolards ? I vould vind out vat comes to my house, and 
shoot down vat makes me trouble ? Open de door, I say, 
vid you !” yelled Moses Muggins without, while the huge 
mastiff scratched upon the door’s oaken panels, and yelped 
fiercely. 

“ What’s this noise you and your dog be makin’ widout 
there, you ould Jew ye? Is it more rint av me ye’re 
wantin’, or are ye drunk, frightening the loife out of us? 
Git out av that wid ye, and roll yersilf over till ye be 
sober,” cried Meg, approaching the door. 

“Quite veil you know, Misses Bolard, I vasn’t drunk. 
Open the door !” 

“ Open the door, is it — and be aten up wid that brute of 
a dog ? What do ye mane ? Are ye crazy ?” 

“ De dog vas all right. Quick smelled he out de crooked 
business, and broke his chain, and come vere it vas. And 
yen I come quick up to vip him back to de store, I vind, 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


151 


by my ears, de dog vas right. And, I say, you have strange 
men widin vid you vat vant to rob me. So open out vid 
de door, and you should at vonce all go by de street. ” 

“ Out on ye, ye ould crab ye. I’ll have ye to know I’m a 
lady. And if that’s all ye want, ye ould thafe, take away 
the dog that’s the better animal av the two av yez, and 
we’ll be lavin’ yer ould rat-trap of a ‘padding ken’ and 
‘ fence-madge, ’ and be sindin’ around for ye a dozen ‘cop- 
pers’ to whisper in yer ears about sindin’ out his ‘pig-wid- 
geon’ nights. You miserable ould thafe of a ‘kidsman !’ ” 

This threat, couched in strictly “ professional” language, 
caused Moses Muggins to alter his tactics, and he began to 
belabor the dog to quietness. 

“Quit your noise, you villain dog! You hear, you 
Kaiser ? Quiet, I told you !” he cried, as he struck the 
brute repeatedly with his cane, and the dog’s fierce bark 
turned to a yelp of pain, and then to a low, surly growl. 

“Visper, Misses Bolards,” quoth Muggins, softly, at the 
keyhole. “ I vas nod mad vid you, only vid de dog. Who 
vas dat stranger man, vat have come to see you ?” 

“Now yer spakin’ in a more proper stoyle to a lady,” 
returned Meg. “ Take away the dog below to the store, so 
he won’t bite the gintleman and you shall see him. Can’t 
a woman invite a friend to her rooms that she pays rint 
for widout all Jerusalem, and their other dogs bein’ turned 
loose about it ?” 

“ Dere, dere now, Misses Bolards, 1 vas too quick mad 
vid de dog. I vill, right avay, tie him down in de store, 
and you should have a fine present for my quick temper.” 

When Muggins had thus spoken he endeavored to drag 
away the unwilling dog from the door. 

lie coaxed, cursed, beat, and pulled the obstinate brute 
to no purpose. 

Then he called loudly to Sammy Muggins, and Sammy’s 
shambling footsteps sounded in the hall- way, as he obedi- 
ently approached. 

| By main force, the two men now dragged the huge mas- 
tiff away, the noise of his claws as they scratched and held 
•back on the floor without, giving proof of his enforced de- 
parture. 

A moment later, from the rear hall-way, came the voice 
of Moses Muggins. 

“ Come out now vid your friend in de hall-vay,” he cried. 
“ De dog vas now all right, Misses Bolards, and I vant to 
speak vid you only von vord. ” 

“And now, Meg,” said the Scotch detective, hasten, you 


152 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEB. 


and Annette, to put on your traveling-dresses, and pack 
such things as you may wish to carry with you in your 
satchels.” 

“ Have no fear ; we will return soon for you, ” he added, 
imprinting a kiss upon Annette’s forehead. “So do as I 
bid you.” 

“ Are we ready, Bobe ?” 

“Ay,” returned Bridger, taking forth and cocking a re- 
volver. 

“Then let’s go. Come, Billy.” 

As he spoke the Scotch detective opened the door, and he 
and Bridger hastened forth into the dark hall-way. 

Billy hesitated, and looked toward Meg. 

She pointed toward the door, stamped her foot impa- 
tiently, and said : 

“ Go!” 

A roguish twinkle kindled in the crazy giant’s eyes. 

He evidently thought that the two sleuth-hounds were 
bent on “ cracking” the Muggins’ safe in the basement, and 
with a bound he cleared the door- way, following to their 
assistance. 

As the Scotch detective threw the light of the dark- 
lantern along the hall-way it fell upon nothing but the 
walls, doors, and upper stair-way. 

As its rays lit the rear wall a fierce bark sounded from 
the lower stair- way, and it was evident that the two Jews 
and the mastiff stood out of sight at its first landing. 

“Come on vid you, Misses Bolards,” said the voice of 
Moses Muggins. 

Then, as the dog let forth another series of fierce yelps, 
he added : 

“ Come on. De dog vas all right. Kaiser vouldn’t harm 
you. ” 

The two sleuth-hounds hastened swiftly to the head of 
the stairs, and the Scotch detective cast the light of the 
dark-lantern down upon the landing. 

Beneath stood the Jews, crouching over the dog, and 
holding back on his chain. 

Each held ready a revolver, and the eyes of the eager 
mastiff, as he strained every nerve to gain his freedom, 
did not flash more maliciously with rage, hate, and deter- 
mination than did those of his uncouth masters. 

Bridger’ s quick eye perceived that the stair- way leading 
down had been greased, evidently that the detectives 
might slip, and be at the mercy of the pistols and dog. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


153 


“Steady your light, so that I can fix the dog,” said 
Bridger, “and look sharp for the stairs, they’re greased.” 

Perceiving that the sleuth hounds had discovered the 
grease on the stair- way the two Jews suddenly loosed 
their grasp on the dog’s chain, and, quick as thought, 
leveled their pistols, and fired. 

At the instant the Scotch detective had descended two 
steps on the stair-way, and Bridger leaned over the balus- 
ter at his rear, waiting to get a good shot at the dog, with- 
out endangering the lives of the Jews. 

The aim of the men was fair, for crash came a bullet 
through the Scotch detective’s dark lantern, shattering 
the glass, putting out the light, and knocking it from his 
hand. 

A responsive shriek sounded from Annette’s chamber. 

The bloodthirsty mastiff came bounding up the stairway. 

And all was black darkness. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE BATTLE ON THE STAIR- WAY. 

“ At them, Kaiser ! de tief s ! loafers ! at them, good dog, 
Kaiser l” cried Moses Muggins. 

The sleuth-hounds had crouched low, fearing that the 
Jews would repeat their fire. 

But they did not. 

They feared that the flashes of their pistols would betray 
them to the aim of their antagonists, and that their bul- 
lets might strike their dog. 

They felt that in the darkness, and on the slippery stair- 
way they could rely on Kaiser to do the rest. 

The blood-thirsty brute needed not the urging of his mas- 
ter. 

With a deep-toned bay the eager beast came bounding 
up the stair-way toward the crouching detectives. 

In the black darkness they felt that they were to a de- 
gree defenseless against the brute, and believed that they 
would be torn by his fangs. 

But even as the huge mastiff’s hot breath fanned the 
Scotch detective’s cheek, and the dog’s jaws widened with 
a yelp of victory to seize his throat, the bay of the fierce 
brute suddenly ceased. 

The next moment the plunge and fall of a heavy body 
sounded upon the greased stair way beneath. 


154 


DETECTIVE BOB BllIDGEK. 


Then came a score of weighty thuds upon the banisters, 
walls, and stair-way that shook the very house. 

Then followed a hasty scramble on the landing. 

And then all was as still as the grave. 

It was all the work of an instant, but in that instant 
Bridger managed to light the dark -lantern which he car- 
ried. 

As its rays fell upon the stair-way and landing the sight 
that greeted the eyes of the two sleuth-hounds was one 
never to be forgotten. 

The crazy giant stood clasping the throats of Moses and 
Sammy Muggins in his brawny hands, and held the Jews 
pinned against the wall so that the feet of neither touched 
the flooring. 

Their eyes glared forth vacantly, their tongues pro- 
truded hideously, and their limbs twitched nervously, as 
if they were in the throes of death. 

The huge mastiff lay motionless and dead near by on the 
landing. 

The crazy giant’s left foot rested upon the dog’s body, 
and, turning his silly, smiling face toward the astonished 
sleuth-hounds on the stairs, he said, in tones as gentle as 
those of a schoolgirl : 

“ See-ree-go ! Master Fandon, see-ree go !” 

“Let them down on the floor, Billy, for Heaven’s sake !” 
cried the Scotch detective. “ Take your hands off their 
throats. We don’t want to kill them !” 

Not until the two sleuth-hounds had reached his side did 
the powerful footpad alter his position or relax his hold. 

He, however, readily yielded his victims to their care, 
and stood by, simpering, as the detectives laid the forms 
of the two men on the landing. 

Moses and Sammy still breathed, but it was evident that 
had they remained a short while longer in the clutch of the 
silly garroter their bodies had shown that peculiar burst of 
skin which betokens death by strangulation. 

“Don’t touch them more,” said the Scotch detective, 
pointing to -the insensible forms at his feet, and address- 
ing Billy. 

“But this dog ’ere?” quoth Billy, grasping the skin of the 
dead dog’s neck in his left hand, and lifting its body forth 
at arm’s length. “I is been wantin’ to kill ’im, because 
’e worried Misses Meg.” 

Drawing back his brawny right fist as he spoke he dealt 
the body of the animal a blow which sent it flying through 
the air to the landing beneath. 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


155 


“ Billy, you are a good one !” said the Scotch detective. 
“ And now tell us how you did it. ” 

“Why, ’e see, Master Fandon,” simpered Billy, bowing 
and scraping, and pulling at the hat which he held in his 
hand, after the manner of a bashful schoolboy, “bang 
went the shot, and I sees where you is when the light goes 
hout, and I sees the dog cornin’, and I jumps past you, 
and ’e comes right hin my harms. Then my foot slips, and 
I falls. But ’e falls hunder me hon the steps, and my knees 
hon ’is stomach. Then I lifts ’im by the throat and pounds 
’im hon the stairs. Then I dashes ’im round, mowin’ for 
the Jews’ ’eads. But they dodges me. Then I drops the 
dog, and reaches out, and gets ’em by the ‘ klicks. ’ Hand 
I ’ad ’em ‘clicked’ hup when you struck the glim. See- 
ree-go ! Master Fandon — see-ree-go !” 

u Billy’s a tough crackin’, as they say here in America, 
eh, Bobe ?” laughed the Scotch detective. 

“A regular corker !” assented Bridger. 

“And now, Bobe,” said the Scotch detective, “with your 
permission, I’ll bounce back for an instant to assure An- 
nette and Meg that matters are all well ended, and to 
hurry them up in readiness for their departure. ” 

The Scotch detective speedily performed his mission, and 
returned, bearing a bottle of liquor, which he had obtained 
from Meg, to be used medicinally in the resuscitation of 
the injured men. 

“ Ye can give Billy a drap of that if ye don’t moind,” 
cried Meg from tne door after him. “A sup or two of the 
stuff acts likewise medicinally on him, and makes him as 
ployable as a kitten. His big skin wouldn’t hold enough of 
it to make one of the stiff bristles on his head bend, and 
twinty gallons av it wouldn’t turn his brain — for nothing 
at all is a difficult commodity to turn. And that’s whoy 
the bould villain is so glad to be gettin’ back to the hotel, 
where the spiggot’s niver out of a barrel of the strongest 
buzz saw throat wash for his own special consumption.” 

“And is it possible, Billy, that you like this stuff?” said 
the Scotch detective, making a wry face at the bottle. 

Billy’s huge mouth spread almost from ear to ear in one 
glad, expectant joy-smile, and reaching for the proffered 
bottle, he remarked, as he lifted it to his lips : 

“See-ree-go ! Master Fandon — see-ree-go !” 

Meg had said that a sup or two had a medicinal effect on 
him, but Billy’s sups proved large ones, for he had swal- 
lowed down three-fourths of the bottle’s contents ere the 
Scotch detective could wrench it from him, 


156 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED, 


The dram, however, surely tended to assure the crazy 
giant that the two sleuth hounds were his friends, and he 
danced and simpered in high glee, while they stooped to 
minister to his insensible victims. 

Lifting Moses Muggins to a sitting posture the detectives 
poured a quantity of the liquor into his mouth, which he 
swallowed involuntarily, and they then administered the 
same treatment to Sammy. 

Placing the dark-lantern in Billy’s hands, the Scotch de- 
tective bade him go ahead and light the way. 

He then lifted Moses Muggins in his arms, and followed 
down the stair- way, while Bridger brought up the rear, 
bearing Sammy. 

At the landing beneath, the crazy giant lifted the body of 
poor Kaiser by the thick nape skin, and bore along the 
weighty carcass in his sinewy left hand, with as little ap- 
parent effort as if it had been that of a kitten. 

“Hit do be funny, Master Fandon,” he said* “Hevery 
one hof us ’as a dog in ’is ’and !” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE JEW’S TREASURE. 

The stair way which the crazy giant and the burdened 
sleuth-hounds pursued ended in the basement at the open 
door of a large, low, dirty room, which had been parti- 
tioned off from the front store-room. 

Midway in the partitions was a door, which was locked 
and barred. 

Near the partition, and against either wall, was a small 
cot bed. 

Against the partition, and to the right of the door, stood 
a massive safe, wide open. 

To the right of the doorway at which the detectives en- 
tered, was a large, shallow box, half filled with straw, 
which had served as Kaiser’s kennel. 

To the left was a writing desk, upon which burned a 
lamp. 

At the rear of the room a large quantity of old clothing 
was piled, and at the apartment’s center was a stove. 

The Scotch detective placed Moses Muggins upon the bed 
nearest the open safe ; Bridger laid Sammy Muggins on the 
cot to its left, and ‘Silly’ Billy tossed Kaiser’s body into 
the box which had served as his kennel. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


157 


The crazy giant then squatted on the floor near by, and 
began to arrange the dead dog in a position to resemble 
life. 

Moses and Sammy Muggins were now breathing freely, 
but, as yet, neither of them had spoken. 

While awaiting their resuscitation the Scotch detective 
and Bridger approached the huge safe and turned the eye 
of the dark lantern upon its contents. 

A glance sufficed to show them that Moses Muggins was 
possessed of wealth which he could never have gotten 
through the medium of the second-hand clothing business 
which he professed to run, and that it was only a cover. 

One large drawer was filled with government bonds of 
large denomination, four other drawers were packed with 
bundles of greenback bills, while the remaining room of the 
safe was occupied by a curious mass of watches, diamonds, 
coins, jewels, ornaments, and utensils of every conceivable 
kind, in gold and silver. 

“How that ‘boodle’ pile would tickle the ‘glims’ of a 
‘ burster, ’ Bobe ?” exclaimed the Scotch detective. 

“I grant ye, my ‘cocum pal !’ ” returned Bridger. 

As fche two sleuth-hounds leaned forward examining the 
Jew’s treasures the Scotch detective suddenly felt a hand 
placed gently upon his shoulder. 

Thinking that the crazy giant had approached, and not 
wishing him to see the hoard, the Scotch detective whis- 
pered to Bridger : 

“ Turn aside the light ! Here’s Billy.” 

Bridger did as requested, and, stepping back, the Scotch 
detective flung to the safe door. 

As he did so he perceived that instead of having felt 
Billy’s hand on his shoulder, as he had supposed, it was 
the hand of Moses Muggins. 

Suddenly reviving, the Jew had perceived the sleuth- 
hounds at the safe, and dragging himself from the bed, had 
approached them. 

“My God! vould you rob old Moses! Moses vat is so 
good to all de boys ?” he ejaculated in a whisper, wringing 
his hands in agony, and tears rolling down his haggard 
face. 

“No, Moses. We are not ‘bursters.’ This is what we 
are !” 

As he spoke the Scotch detective displayed his badge. 

The Jew’s eyes glared wildly, and he tottered back in 
terror as he realized that his visitors were detectives. 

To his fancy it had been better had they proved thieves. 


158 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“ If I know it I vould not resist you,” he gasped. “ Any 
vay, nothing have I done. But rather than you should 
make me idle trouble I vill pay you — yea, I vill pay you 
richly. 

“Vait,” he added, staggering toward the cot on which 
Sammy lay. “I vill send for Rachel. I could not talk. I 
vas nearly dead. She shall intercede vid you for me. She 
shall make vid you terms to let me off easy. ” 

Then he began to tug at Sammy’s clothes, as if to arouse 
him. 

“Sammy! did you hear?” he ejaculated. “Go, fetch 
Rachel. Get quick up, Sammy !” 

But although Sammy opened his eyes and grunted by 
way of a response he made no effort to arise from the cot. 

“Vat should I do? Sammy vas near dead, too,” gasped 
Moses giving over his effort to arouse Sammy, and stagger- 
ing aside from the cot. 

Then his eyes fell upon “Silly” Billy, who was in the act 
of pinning open poor Kaiser’s left eye, so as to give it a 
natural expression. 

Muggins evidently did not know that the dog was dead, 
and the spectacle of a man quietly poking pins through his 
skin without a murmur from the fierce brute seemed to 
turn his bewildered brain. 

Clasping his hands to his head he cried out in a hoarse 
whisper : 

“ Oh, my God ! vat vas it? vat vas it? Vas I sure crazy? 
Or did I dream ? Or did I dream ?” 

As he spoke he fell back upon a chair near the writing- 
desk, on which burned the lamp. 

“No, Moses, you don’t dream,” said Bridger, taking from 
his pocket the bill made at the Broadway detective agency, 
and approaching the desk upon which Muggins leaned. 
“ This is an expense bill of three robberies from the person 
which you caused this silly man to do, and the ‘ swag’ of 
which you pocketed. The amount is twenty-two hundred 
and fifty dollars.” 

“Veil, veil — say nothing,” interrupted Muggins. “I vill 
pay you right avay if you say it. ” 

“You will pay me nothing. I don’t touch a dollar of 
your money, ” returned Bridger, throwing the expense bill 
on the desk before the trembling Jew. “But there, I leave 
you the bill. At its head you will see printed the address 
of the Bower Detective Agency. If by to-morrow night 
you send your daughter Rachel with twenty-two hundred 
and fifty dollars, and that bill to them, they will ask her 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEB. 


/ ' 159 


no questions, and you will have no further trouble from 
us. If you do not do it — the State shall furnish you and 
Sammy a suit of stripes. ” 

“ But I vill do it. I vill do it. Sure I vill !” quoth Mug- 
gins. 

“ See then that you do it. And remember if you don’t — ” 

And, with his hand raised to impress the threat, Bridger 
passed from the room toward the stair- way, whither the 
Scotch detective and Billy had preceded him. 

Bridger banged the door behind him, and the two sleuth- 
hounds paused a moment without listening. 

On the instant Muggins tottered to his feet, and, ap- 
proaching the door, turned the key in the lock, and shot 
the bolt to its place. 

“Tiefs ! robbers ! loafers !” he cried. “Could I not vish 
to my God I killed you ! dat de dog tore you to shreds and 
tatters apart before my eyes. ” 

“Vat is de matter, Kaiser?” he added, turning suddenly 
toward the carcass of the dead dog, which Billy had suc- 
ceeded in placing in a life-like attitude in the box. “ Could 
you know de silly fellow so veil, Kaiser ! Ha ! I see ! 
Kaiser vas dead — dead ! 

“ My vatchful Kaiser ! My safe, good vatch-dog vas dead ! 
Tiefs ! robbers ! loafers ! But my moneys, my moneys ! 
Let me see if all vas right vid de safe ! Oh, I vas ruined ! 
ruined ! I know I vas ruined !” 

A moment later the safe door swung open, and the 
sleuth-hounds heard the Jew fumbling over his treasures, 
as they turned to ascend the stair-way. 


CHAPTER XXXIX.) 

RACHEL’S LOVE AND TROUBLE. ^ 

On reaching the first hall-way, Bridger hastened to re- 
lease the captive, Rachel, while the Scotch detective and 
Billy continued to ascend to the assistance of Annette and 
Meg in their departure. 

Opening the door and turning on the light, Bridger found 
that Rachel had wisely remained as she had been placed, 
and had thus avoided the torture which would have fol- 
lowed an attempt to escape the bonds. 

He speedily cut the strong hempen cords from her limbs, 
removed the gag from her mouth, and lifted her gently 
from the bed. 


160 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


She appeared to be angry, and sobbed incoherently as the 
detective assisted her to an easy-chair by the stove. 

“And now tell me vat have you done?” she said, as she 
became more composed. “ Have you arrested de tief and 
de vimin up de stair ?” 

u Yes,” returned Bridger, “my brother officer is now 
bringing them down.” 

“ Dat vas good — I like me dat ! I vant no such beoples 
by me. But tell me, vas you going to take vid you my 
fadder and my uncle ?” 

u No, not to night. They have promised to return some 
stolen property to-morrow, and we have let them off until 
we see what they will do about it. ” 

“Veil, you had some fight vid them and de dog, eh? I 
heard shots and de dog barking. ” 

“Yes, your father and uncle fired the shots, but were 
overpowered, choked a little, and the dog was killed. ” 

“ And you say my fadder vas choked — but not bad — he 
could talk ?” 

“Yes — he desired a moment ago that you should go 
down stairs to him. ” 

“Veil, I could also stay up stairs, and vill !” exclaimed 
Bachel, tossing her head as if she believed that a fraction 
of the balance of power in the Muggins family had there 
its seat. “ And I vas now glad by de whole business. If 
de dog vas dead he should be dead before such dog vas 
born. And my fadder act so long like an old fool, I hope 
he got good sense knocked into his head by dis racket. ” 

“ I hope so, Rachel, ” assented Bridger. “ He is certainly 
rich enough to live differently. ” 

“Dat’s vat it is — a- Jewish man vas never rich enough. 
De richer he gets de poorer he feels. A long while my 
fadder has plenty of money, and could be honest and live 
well — have no tiefs no detectives, no nothing go wrong. 
But everyting vid him is money, money— and his good, 
safe watch-dog, Kaiser. Ha, ha ! veil, I feel safer ven 
dat good, safe watch-dog vas dead.” 

“I should think,” suggested Bridger, “he should have 
a good strong young man about the house if he fears rob- 
bery. ” 

“And so I tink. Vy, I myself could get married often. I 
ha^e now a quite nice young German man, vat is by trade 
a tailor. He vants me bad to marry vid him. Sure, of 
course, he vas not a Jew — but I vant nothing more vid such 
people vot knows nothing but 4 monish, ’ ‘ monish. ’ And my 
fellow have such a nice name !” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


161 


“ What is his name ?” asked Bridger. 

“ His name vas Carl Bingle and he vas just as nice as vat 
his name is.” 

“And have you spoken to your father about it?” 

“ Quite often have I said to my fadder after vorking at 
housework so long by him he should give me a little start 
vid de young man so ve might be married. ” 

“And what did he say?” 

“Vy vould you believe it he says, ‘Rachel, if you vant to 
vear clothes, ain’t it, and eat grub, ain’t it, stay right here 
by your fadder, Moses Muggins. But if you vant to go 
naked, beg, starve — e:et married. Moreover,’ he vould 
say, ‘if you vasn’t good enough looking, Rachel, ain’t it, 
to marry a rich Jewish husband, ain’t it, vy, I tink too 
much of myself, ain’t it, to buy you a poor German von. ’ ” 

“He wouldn’t have it, then?” 

“No, and he make me vorse yet mad. He vould say, ‘De 
poor house vas made for fools and de children of fools, 
ain’t it, and if you vould go avay and get married, ain’t it, 
soon come you vere all de fools go. But, he vould say, 

‘ I vant you not to say to the poor-master you vas Rachel, 
daughter of Moses Muggins — for I go right avay by him 
and swear your name vas Bridget O’ Ho — Ho — Ho — some- 
ting, Irish name. ’ 

“Such tings I suffer, oh !” added Rachel. “And so I vas 
glad you come by de house to-night and teach my fadder 
such lesson. And, mind vat I told you, I finish de business 
for him if he vant to make me a slave all de vile, have me 
tied up by strange mens by his doings, call me Bridget 
O’Ho — Ho — Ho — someting, Irish name, ain’t it — I should 
squak in de court on him, if he gives me not a little start, 
and Carl Ringle !” 

At that moment the Scotch detective rapped upon the 
door without, and called to Bridger that all were in the 
hall- way and in readiness for departure. 

Bidding them set forth at once, Bridger assisted Rachel 
to her feet, and bade her accompany him to the door, that 
she might secure it after him. 

This she did with some effort on account of her benumbed 
limbs, but when Bridger parted with her at the door way 
with the wish that things would soon turn right for her 
and Carl, she smiled very pleasantly, and bade him good- 
night. 


162 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


CHAPTER XL. 

“ OH, MISSUS MEG, YOU DOES LOOK NICE !” 

On reaching the street, Bridger perceived the Scotch de- 
tective arm in arm with Annette, walking briskly toward 
Chatham square, followed by Meg and Billy, the latter 
bearing the baggage. 

Stepping from the door-step, he speedily joined them. 

At Chatham square a cab was secured, the satchel and 
bundles which Billy carried placed therein, and then the 
party separated. 

The Scotch detective, Annettp, and Meg turned toward 
the mile-level of millinery stores on Division street, with 
the avowed purpose, as Fandon expressed it, of procuring 
Annette a fashionable hat in lieu of the huge salad bowl 
and vail concern which she Avore. 

Meanwhile Bridger escorted the crazy giant first to a 
u moist goods” establishment on Chatham square, thence 
to a clothing emporium, and thence to a hatter, shoemaker 
and tonsorial artist respectively. 

A half hour’s time sufficed to perform the tour, and 
when Bridger turned again with his charge toward the 
waiting cab Billy’s appearance was wonderfully changed 
for the better. 

The tailor, hatter, shoemaker, and barber had changed 
him from the uncouth simpleton, so that he might readily 
have passed for an overgrown countryman on a junketing 
excursion to New York. 

Barely had “ Silly” Billy deposited the satchel, contain- 
ing his cast-off clothes and new underwear, in the cab when 
Meg dawned upon the scene, bearing numerous bundles. 

The patronage of the battalion of millinery and dress- 
making stores on Division street had far outreached the 
proposed purchase of the hat. 

Meg’s head was surmounted by a rakish, brigand hat, 
and as her black eyes, shapely features, and neat fat-and- 
forty form, incased in a costly fall wrap, appeared in the 
flare of the street lamp, she was by no means an uncomely 
female. 

At all events it seemed so to the crazy giant’s eyes, for 
he hastened gallantly forward to relieve the lady of the 
bundle she carried, and exclaimed as he did so ; 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


163 


“ Oh, Missus Meg, you does look nice !” 

u And so does you, Billy, ye villain !” returned Meg. 

Then waving her hand toward the cab in as imperious a 
manner as if she were the proprietress of a Bowery con- 
cert hall about to drive out in her own outfit, she added, to 
the amusement of the cabman, who stood grinning by : 

“ But don’t be standin’ gapin’ there devourin’ me appear- 
ance wid yer eyes. But, wid some assumption of gintility, 
place me bundles widin the barouchay, and lind me yer 
assistance to enter. And do ye be mindin’ to kape your 
tongue quiet as we do be ridin’ along, and pay particular 
attention that I don’t want any more of yer he, he, he’s ! 
or yer hi, he, hoes ! until afther we have doined at the 
Caravansay. ” 

The Scotch detective, who had loitered longer than suited 
Bridger’s patience, now strolled leisurely under the street 
lamp toward the cab, Annette leaning upon his arm, and 
her bright blue eyes beaming very happily upon him from 
under the rim of a new purchase. 

Annette’s gentle form was also incased in a costly fall 
wrap of rare finish, and a more winsome little lady could 
not be imagined than was she as the Scotch detective as- 
sisted her to a place in the cab. 

So, at least, thought Fandon as he turned toward 
Bridger. 

“Fandon,” said Bridger, somewhat curtly, “there are 
times for everything, and you should remember that al- 
though you have safely won a charming little woman to 
your arms there is still much pressing work to be done. So 
don’t permit Annette’s beauty to act on you as another 
East Indian sleep-glass just yet.” 

“ Pardon my delay, Bobe, ” returned the Scotch detective, 
“ for, as you once told me you had never been in love, I 
can offer you no excuse. What’s to be done ?” 

“ It is now nearly eight. At half-past ten a train leaves 
for Alton, and we must all go by that train. You have 
ample time to drive to the hotel, present Dr. Macy with his 
newly found grandchild, and be all dinnered and ready to 
enter the cab for the depot, when I arrive, at nine.” 

“ And where are you for ?” 

“ Goucher sold the sand-bag, and we must take him along 
as a witness.” 

“ Is that necessary ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“ Videre has money, has fixed things fine, and will doubt- 


164 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


less bring powerful influence to bear. We must offset these 
things with every point in hand. ” 

u Will Goucher accompany you?” 

“ I think so. ” 

“You may have trouble. Had I not better stick by you?” 

“No.” 

“ But if j ou should have trouble ?” 

“I will take care of number one. Hurry up now, there’s 
not a moment to lose. 

“All right ; at nine you will find us ready,” returned the 
Scotch detective, as he sprang to a place in the coach, and 
the cabman drove off. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

BRIDGER’ S ADVENTURE IN THE DEN. 

A moment later Bridger was rolling along the Bowery 
in a second coach toward “ Boss” Goucher’s den in Delaney 
street. 

As before stated , Hoffman and Scott, the famous Chicago 
detectives, and Bridger, had once upon a time arrested 
Goucher in the city named for burglary. 

Bridger therefore felt that Goucher would recognize him 
so soon as he entered his premises. 

He was prepared to offer him a pecuniary inducement 
and immunity from arrest did he accompany the party to 
Alton, and identify Pere Videre, should the man in custody 
prove to be the person who purchased the sand-bag from 
him. 

He supposed that Goucher would consent to do so, nor 
did he anticipate trouble. 

He did not afterward regret his visit, however, for it fur- 
nished him a clew to the whereabouts of some of those per- 
sons who had suddenly disappeared in New York, and were 
never heard from again. 

Had they been struck down on the sidewalk by the high- 
waymen, or murdered in their rooms by the burglar the 
facts would have become known. 

Even had their bodies been cast in the sewers or the 
river, there had existed a reasonable possibility that the 
morgue would one day offer their remains in evidence of 
the manner in which foul play had claimed them victims. 

This clew assured Bridger that many of these missing 
persons had been allured aside by confidence sharps, such 
as bunco men, saw-dust operators, and hand-shakers. 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


165 


These people are in reality the most dangerous of metro- 
politan criminals. 

They have as much murder in their hearts, and far more 
shrewdness in their brains, than the burglar or footpad, 
and are usually graduates from that class of thieves. 

Assuming the role of friendship, they entice the unwary 
victim to where all things are in readiness to their ends, 
and where the eye of the law does not reach. 

If the dupe gives up his money to the “racket” they 
spread for him, he escapes with its loss. 

If, however, it is found that he possesses a large sum, 
and he detects, or revolts on, their game there is a chance 
that his name will appear placarded as a missing man. 

The police will be notified to look him up, his friends 
will proclaim his mortality, and their several theories as to 
the cause of their grief ; hotels, morgues, prisons, asylums, 
roads, rivers, highways and byways will be searched again 
and again in vain ; and all the while his body will lie 
securely buried many feet beneath the noisy, hurrying city 
above. 

When the cab pulled up at the curb on the opposite side 
of the street from Goucher’s den, Bridger stepped to the 
sidewalk, and glanced across at the low, two-story brick 
house he was about to enter. 

Its windows were heavily shaded and dimly lighted, and 
the place looked so much to Bridger like a notorious thieves’ 
den on Kearney street, in San Francisco, in which he had 
had a desperate encounter, that, impulsively, a feeling im- 
plying caution possessed him. 

He bade the cabman, whom he had employed before, to 
throw open the outside door of the cab ready for a hasty 
entry, and to remain on his box, and drive off, at speed, to 
the St. Nicholas Hotel, whenever he bade him go. 

Then, crossing the street, he opened the hall-way door, 
entered, and listened. 

The hum of the bar-room, filled with thieves, alone 
reached his ears. 

Feeling his way in the darkness, he cautiously ascended 
the stair- way, and approached the door of the room where 
the sand-bag transaction had taken place. 

A ray of light, penetrating from the worn wicket, showed 
that it was occupied. 

Placing his eye to the crevice, the sleuth-hound perceived 
that u Tom, the Frog,” and Goucher were within. 

“Tom, the Frog,” sat at the left of the large round table, 


166 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


while Goucher, who had barely approached it, stood be- 
tween the candle burning thereon and Bridger at the 
door. 

The men wore hats and overcoats, as if they had been on 
the point of going forth. 

In his left hand Goucher held a long, tin tube, from 
which he blew forth a small tightly rolled bit of paper. 

As it fell upon the table, “Tom, the Frog,” seized it, and 
Goucher said : 

“What’s he want?” 

The bit of paper proved to be a note which had been 
passed up through some peep-hole from below, and “ Tom, 
the Frog,” read it. 

“The ‘Fork’ says,” said he, “there’s a ‘queer’ cab has 
pulled up over the way, and a chap that looks like a ‘ fly- 
cop’ is on the stairs coming up.” 

Bridger rapped loudly upon the door. 

After a moment’s delay the door opened, and Goucher’ s 
burly form appeared thereat. 

“ How are you, Goucher ?” said the detective, extending 
his hand. 

“ Why, halloo, Bridger ! how do you do ?” returned 
Goucher, clasping the sleuth-hound’s hand warmly. “I 
haven’t seen you since the Chicago scrape. But what’s up 
now ? Hope no one about this ranch is wanted to-night ?” 

“No one, Goucher. I have only come to see you on a 
matter of business. ” 

“That’s all? Then come in and sit down.” 

He turned as he spoke, passed to the right about the 
table, and dropped leisurely to a seat at its rear. 

Bridger closed the door, exchanged nods with “ Tom, the 
Frog, ” and seated himself upon a chair to the right of the 
table, to which Goucher pointed. 

“ Ha ! ha !” laughed Goucher, “rough chase you boys had 
to put old Goucher behind the bars that night, eh, Bridger ? 
But I can tell you one thing, right here — you’ll never have 
that little pleasure again. Beformed, sir ! reformed, sir ! 
No more ‘crooked’ work for me ! Keepin’ a ‘boosing ken,’ 
makin’ money, livin’ high, and when death calls home old 
Goucher, he’ll not write with his bony finger on the tomb- 
stone : ‘Here lies a convict. ’ And how’s Hoff and Scott 
getting on ?” 

“ Same as ever. ” 

“Ah ! they’re a hard pair to get over — the hardest men 
by long odds along the lakes. And when they get onto a 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


167 


poor ‘trick’ the game might as well be called done. And 
how have things been with yourself since, Bridger ?” 

“So-so.” 

“ Workin’ for the government, Pinkerton, or who?” 

“At present I’m helpin’ a man from Scotland Yard on a 
murder case.” 

“English case, eh?” 

“Yes ; my business with you is regarding it.” 

“What the duse do I know about an English murder 
case ? I was born right here in New York. Never was 
across the pond in my life. ” 

“I’ll tell you. The man you sold that sand-bag to some 
days ago is in custody over in Jersey for killing a man, 
and I want you to identify him.” 

“Sand-bag — me !” cried Goucher, rising from his chair 
excitedly. 

“Goucher,” returned Bridger, quietly, “you know me, 
and that I would make no such assertion unless I knew 
what I was talking about. ” 

“Well, what do you know? And how do you know it? 5 ’ 
demanded Goucher, resuming his seat, and exchanging a 
glance of intelligence with “Tom, the Frog.” 

“I happened to be ‘shadowing’ that squeaking English- 
man who your man ‘Jack, the Fork,’ walked in here to get 
* sawdust, ’ and overheard the whole business from outside 
in the hall-way. He paid you five hundred dollars for the 
bag. ” 

“Well — what have I got to do with it?” 

“ Only to identify the man, if it is he, and say that he 
came to you professing to be in fear of foul play from a 
friend, and wanted a weapon which he could destroy if he 
was forced to use it in his own defense.” 

“And you say the ‘bloke’ did get away with a man, with 
the sand-bag ?” 

“It would seem so. And as it happened near a railroad 
track he will endeavor, in the absence of the weapon, to 
show that his victim fell from a train. ” 

“And don’t people fall from trains?” 

“ They do — but if this man did fall, as I say, you know 
that he fell from a sand-bag.” 

“And how do you make out I know he fell from the 
bag.” 

“And the price paid for the weapon was enough to 
show any man the use it was to go to, and moreover I 
heard you and your men say as much in the hall-way after 
the sale.” 


168 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“You heard so?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you want me to go over with you to Jersey, and 
have Jersey justice put a noose about my neck as an acces- 
sory before the fact, eh ?” 

“I have made a mistake. The man is imprisoned at 
Alton, Pennsylvania.” 

“Well, it’s all the same where he is. I am here.” 

“It’s no crime to sell a weapon, man, and I give you my 
oath that you shall not see the inside of a prison, that I 
will shield you, you shall not be in any way implicated, 
and shall be well paid for the service. ” 

“Well, .iOw, right here, I give you my oath that I don’t 
want you to shield me, that you don’t implicate me, and 
that I don’t go on no such racket from New York.” 

Goucher’s tones were loud and violent, and he glared 
fiercely at Bridger as he spoke. 

Bridger thought he detected him making a motion, as if 
outstretching his right foot forcibly upon the floor. 

As he did so, “Tom, the Frog’s” hands stretched lazily 
forth upon the table, in close proximity to the candle. 

A sJight draft of chilly air, with a tainted, cellar odor, 
which the detective had not before noticed, caused Bridger 
to cast down his eyes as if in the act of ejecting a spittle, 
and he noticed that a crack extended between two of the 
boards more marked than the other joinings. 

This crack ran entirely across the floor close to the legs 
of the table, and four feet from the wall at the detective’s 
back. 

The suspicion that he was sitting on a trap struck 
Bridger at once. 

Placing his left hand on the table, so that he might 
readily grasp its edge, he trust his left foot beyond the 
crack, and rested his weight upon it. 

Then gesticulating with his right over the table toward 
Goucher, as if anxious to impress his words upon him, he 
said : 

“Goucher, I did not anticipate trouble. In fact, I 
thought I was doing you a kindness in making you the 
offer I have. But as you take it differently, you may blunder 
yourself into the trouble you fear.” 

“Not much I won’t, my ‘cocum covey.’ And this is the 
reason why. ” 

On the instant, “Tom, the Frog’s” hands snuffed out the 
candle, leaving the room in black darkness, and the floor, 
with a dull crash, gave away beneath Bridger’s chair. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


169 


CHAPTER XLIL 

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. 

The chair upon which Bridger had been sitting slipped 
from the opening trap, and fell into its black depths. 

Had it not been for Bridger 1 s athletic training nothing 
would have saved him from following the chair. 

Springing forward in the black darkness, at the instant 
the trap was sprung, he succeeded in throwing himself 
forward across the table. 

As he did so his hands came in contact with those of 

“ Tom, the Frog, ” as he was in the act of removing them 
from the snuffed candle. 

Seizing the burglar’s wrists with an iron grip, and brac- 
ing himself strongly upon the table, Bridger swung him 
from his chair to the left and around toward the trap. 

The sleuth-hound’s intention was to hurl him into it, but 
in this he failed. 

It was all the work of an instant, and both “ Tom, the 
Frog,” and Bridger realized that it was a struggle for life. 

A second effort, with all his strength, brought the bur- 
glar’s body directly over the trap, when he suddenly 
wrenched loose his right hand, and clutching at Bridger’ s 
throat, succeeded in grasping the collar of his shirt, and 
the upper part of his snug-fitting vest. 

By this hold he hung dangling over the trap, his left 
hand being held firmly in Bridger ’s. 

He now began to struggle in the effort to scramble over 
the sleuth-hound and reach the table. 

Bridger was lying face downward directly across the 
table, his head and shoulders above the trap, and his legs 
extending toward the chair on which his antagonist had 
been sitting. 

“Tom, the Frog’s” struggles were gradually and surely 
forcing both men toward the opening beneath. 

With his right hand, Bridger braced himself back upon 
the smooth table-top as best he could, himself sliding inch 
by inch toward what seemed certain death. 

One thing was in his favor— in the plunge the burglar 
would be beneath, and receive the brunt of the fall. 


170 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEK. 


At the very moment when it seemed that both were 
plunging helplessly downward u Tom, the Frog,” called to 
Goucher for help. 

On the instant Bridger felt his legs strongly grasped from 
behind, and Goucher’ s voice cried out : 

“ Put him over to his bed, my boy Tommy !” 

It was evident that he thought he had hold of “ Tom, the 
Frog’s” legs, and that it was Bridger who was holding on 
above the trap. 

It was a fortunate mistake, and gave the sleuth-hound 
liberty to use his right hand. 

Even as Goucher spoke Bridger drew from his pocket a 
pair of steel manacles, and making “ knucklers” of them, 
dealt “ Torn, the Frog’s” hand at his neck a powerful blow. 
The buttons flew from the sleuth-hound’s vest, his collar 
burst wide, and his shirt-front ripped down, but the grasp 
of the burglar was broken, and he fell, bringing up with a 
dull thud in the dark depths beneath. 

“ Good boy Tommy !” cried Goucher, who evidently # be- 
lieved that Bridger was safe at the bottom of the trap. 

An instant later he learned differently. 

Barely had he uttered the exclamation, when the sleuth- 
hound swung himself about on the table and seized his 
wrists, snapping the manacles on them as he did so. 

As Goucher released his hold from Bridger’ s legs, the 
sleuth-hound pushed him forcibly back, sprang from the 
table, and struck a match. 

Ere the astounded villain could realize what had befallen 
him, Bridger had relit the candle, and held a cocked re- 
volver at his head. 

He glared fiercely at the detective, started back and 
trembled visibly. 

“Goucher,” said Bridger, “you have made it a plain play 
of life against life, and if by word, sign, or act, you refuse 
my will, or if you attempt to give a signal, hold back, or 
make one motion in any way to escape me, I’ll drop you 
dead on the instant !” 

The cowed villain looked at the sleuth hound’s deter- 
mined eyes, and muttered : 

“ Bridger, I cave !” 

But Bridger knew that the man did not mean it. 

“Your life is in your own hands ; go on !” he said, and he 
pushed the burly burglar toward the door. 

Opening it, the sleuth-hound pointed toward the stair- 
way, which was lit by the rays of the candle. 

Goucher made no resistance, but walked slowly from the 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


171 


room, Bridger holding the revolver to his head, and urging 
him on. 

When the manacled burglar and his captor had almost 
reached the bottom of the stair- way, a shrill whistle sounded 
at if from the rear of the bar-room. 

On the instant the hum of voices became subdued to an 
ominous hush. 

A moment later a tumult of yells, mingled with the noise 
of overturning chairs and tables, and hurrying feet, came 
from the bar. 

“Jack, the Fork,” had discovered that it was “Tom, the 
Frog,” and not the “fly-cop” that had fallen through the 
trap. 

Goucher, the “ King of the Ken,” was known to be in dan- 
ger of arrest, and a rescue had been called for. 

Just as the sleuth-hound had forced his prisoner to the 
hall-way door, swung it open, and placed his revolver in 
his pocket, so that his hands might be free, the bar-room 
mob pushed forth into the rear hall-way. 

Goucher paused upon the threshold. 

Had his hands been free he would have grasped the sides 
of the door frame. 

He made an effort to stagger and fall to gain time. 

Grasping his coat at the nape of the neck with his left 
hand, Bridger clutched the seat of his trousers in his right, 
and, exerting his strength to the utmost, sent him on a 
Spanish run across the sidewalk and street. 

The cab stood at the opposite curb, its street door open, 
and the cabman ready to drive off. 

Pushing the king of the den before him, Bridger landed 
him at the cab’s door just as the howling mob, headed by 
“Jack, the Fork,” and the burly bartender, rushed upon 
the street. 

Goucher feigned to make a misstep at entering the cab, 
and fell forward head and shoulders upon its bottom. 

Seizing him by the legs, Bridger forced him heels over 
head within, and entering himself, bade the driver go. 

The cabman lashed his horses, and they bounded for- 
ward, the mob running after and clutching at the flying 
wheels. 

Around the corner to the next street, across that street 
toward the Bowery, the cab flew along, pursued by the 
rabble, who had raised the cry of “ stop, thief !” 

A policeman stood talking with a ward detective, under 
a corner street lamp, as the cab turned into the Bowery. 

Hearing the cry of “ stop, thief !” and the hurrying foot' 


172 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


steps of the cab’s pursuers, they turned toward the cross- 
street just as “Jack, the Fork,” and the burly bartender 
rushed into the glare of the lamp, at the head of the mob. 

Knowing well the character of these men, they detained 
them, while the motley crowd surged about, and the police- 
man added to the uproar by rapping sharply upon the side- 
walk for aid with his club. 

Ere it had been explained to the officers that the u thief” 
“ wanted” 'had passed in the cab, that vehicle had been lost 
among the many of its class, and was heading safely 
toward the St. Nicholas Hotel. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE DRIVE TO THE FERRY* 

On the way to the hotel, the Scotch detective briefly re- 
counted the story of Dr. Macy and of Alfonse Godot’s 
wanderings, and the evidence pointing to the murder of 
the latter by Videre. 

Annette was thus prepared to meet her grand parent, the 
gentle old man who so anxiously awaited her coming. 

Filled with happy anticipations for the future, it could 
not be expected that the maiden might grieve deeply at the 
supposed loss of a father she had never known. 

She sincerely trusted, however, that the men held at 
Pittsburgh were her father and Videre, and that the dead 
man found at Alton would prove to have been a stranger of 
like name. 

The scene that ensued at the hotel was highly affecting. 

Dr. Macy’s joy at suddenly finding the rescued girl in his 
arms was almost childish in its exuberance. 

He declared that in her fair face and form Heaven had 
restored to him the lost Alice, and he thanked God, while 
the tears coursed down his wrinkled cheeks, for this evi- 
dence of His pardon for the great wrong his pride had 
caused him to commit. 

When his excitement had somewhat abated, and the 
Scotch detective informed him of the supposed fate of 
Alfonse Godot, he also joined Annette in the hope that her 
father was yet alive, and both were eager for the proposed 
journey. 

A hasty dinner was partaken of, at which u Silly” Billy 
distinguished himself in a way that St. Nicholas Hotel 
waiters will never forget, and, when the cab containing 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


173 


Bridger and his prisoner pulled up at the hotel, the Scotch 
detective stood in waiting on the sidewalk. 

While the mob of thieves had pursued, Bridger had sat 
quietly grasping the chain of the manacles that held 
Goucher’s wrists in his left hand, and clutching the lapel 
of his coat with his right. 

When the cab had passed safely into the Bowery he re- 
laxed his hold, and tied his handkerchief about Goucher’s 
forehead, which was bruised and bleeding. 

This done, Goucher broke the silence by demanding, in a 
surly tone, whether he was being taken to the station-house 
or to the train for Alton. 

Bridger well knew that his prisoner was well versed in 
points of criminal law. 

He knew that Bridger had technically no right to arrest 
him without a warrant for an offense not committed against 
the general government, or to take him to another State 
without a requisition. 

He understood, however, that his attempt upon the de- 
tective’s life had constituted an offense for which Bridger 
could deliver him to custody in the city, and he feared the 
result might look toward an investigation of the murderous 
trap in his den. 

It had, without doubt, done work which, if followed up, 
would consign him to the gallows. 

Detectives at times feel bound to strain every point to 
bring about the success of the case they have in hand, and, 
under the circumstances, Bridger felt forced to make a 
compromise. 

It was agreed between the two men that if Bridger did 
not cause Goucher’s imprisonment on any charge the latter 
would go to Alton as the detective desired, and ere the cab 
drew up at the hotel Bridger had removed the manacles 
from the burglar’s wrists. 

u Did you find your man, Bobe ?” demanded the Scotch 
detective, as he perceived Bridger through the open win- 
dow in the cab’s door. 

u Yes, I have the witness all right. Are you ready to 
go ?” returned Bridger. 

“All ready and waiting this half hour. And, by the 
way, we have but forty minutes left to catch the train. I 
was beginning to fear that you were having some trouble, 
and was on the point of having a look around myself for 
you. ” 

“ Then lose no time, Fandon. Get the party into the car- 


174 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES,. 


riage, and instruct your driver to drive to the Pennsylvania 
Railroad ferry.” 

A moment later the Scotch detective led forth Annette, 
Meg, Dr. Macy, and “Silly” Billy from the ladies’ entrance 
of the hotel. 

The three first named, accompanied by the Scotch detec- 
tive, entered the cab which had waited without at their 
service, Billy being consigned to the cab in which Bridger 
rode. 

The crazy giant hesitated about entering, but Meg’s order 
hurried his movements, and when he recognized Bridger 
he dropped into the cab’s front seat, assured that all was 
well. 

The two vehicles then rattled off toward the ferry at a 
lively gait. 

“ ’E ! ’e ! ’e !” simpered Billy, as the coach rolled on, 
shifting his hands about uneasily, and evidently desiring 
to become better acquainted with his surroundings. u We 
’ad a bloomin’ ’ot dinner hinside the ’otel — soup, turkey, 
hice-cream, han’ the like, ’e ! ’e ! ’e ! I say, Master Brid- 
ger, who’s ’e got there w’ ye, han’ ’igh tober?” 

“No, Billy,” returned Bridger. “ This gentleman is Mr. 
Goucher. He goes with us as a witness to identify Mr. 
Videre.” 

“To identify Mr. Videre? ’E ! ’e ! Hi alius thought Mr. 
Videre’s squealin’ voice would hidentify hitself, ’e ! ’e ! 
But, come to be thinkin’, hive ’eard of Mr. Goucher before, 
’e ! ’e !” 

“ Heard of me ? Where ?” demanded Goucher. 

“ Hive ’eard of Mr. Goucher in the ’ouse of Mr. Muggins, 
’e ! ’e ! Hi say though, Master Bridger, Muggins’ dog 
won’t be so troublesome hany more, will ’e?” 

“What do you mean?” demanded Goucher, glancing 
from Billy to Bridger with an air of suspicion, which the 
detective could not at the time fully account for. 

“Nothing, Goucher,” said Bridger, touching his head to 
indicate Billy’s ailment. “Billy here is a little off, and as 
it happens, has been rooming in Muggins’ house lately. 
He was wanted as a witness against Videre, and we were 
forced to enter Muggins’ house this evening and get him 
out. We had a lively brush with the Jews, and Billy killed 
their dog. ” 

“Hi should say hi killed ’im. Ay, Master Bridger,” sim- 
pered the crazy giant. “ Hi was bound to, for ’e made 
Misses Meg much worry, and hevery time when hi come 
’ome o’ night, when hi would rap on Misses Rachel’s win- 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


175 


dow to let me hin, ’e would growl as hif ’e would want to 
heat me up. But ’e’s dead now, bean’t ’e, Master Bridger? 
’E ! ’e ! See-re-go !” 

“I’m not surprised that you had a fight if you entered 
Muggins’ house,” quoth Goucher. “I know the man, of 
course, but he never would permit me to enter his home, 
and that dog was a terrible beast — a regular house-watcher, 
imported from Germany.” 

“But ’e’s hexported now, bean’t ’e, Master Bridger? ’E ! 
’e ! See ree-go !” quoth Billy. 

“ And how did you manage to enter the house, if I may 
ask?” said Goucher. 

“Oh, easy enough,” returned Briderer. “The signal, as 
Billy said, seemed to be a tap on the window at the head of 
the steps. Rachel, the daughter, opened the door in re- 
sponse ; we secured her in her room, searched the house, 
found what we wanted, and thanks to Billy, escaped the 
dog. ” 

“Well, all I’ve got to say is,” commented Goucher, “you 
did a nervy thing. To my certain knowledge, there are 
‘fly-cops’ and ‘crooks’ in New York who had liked to’ve 
entered there, but dared not do so. Muggins always kept 
his house locked, and that brute’s growl, as it sounded in 
the clothing store from the rear room, was enough to make 
a man fear to enter farther. Of course, you know that 
Muggins is a rich fence, and — ” 

“Hi should think ’e was a rich ‘fence,’” chimed in 
Billy. “ ’E’s got a safe back there as is crammed full of 
money han’ golden ‘boodle,’ ’e ! ’e ! ’e ! Hi’de liked many 
’e time to ’ave ’elped crack Mr. Mugginses’ safe for ’im, 
’e ! ’e ! See-ree-go !” 

“The old miser?” exclaimed Goucher. “It’s the likes of 
him that reap all the reward of the dark deeds of crooked 
men. And it would serve him only too well to lose to some 
of them a bunch of his ‘ boodle. ’ ” 

As “ Silly” Billy continued to narrate his experience in 
Muggins’ house Goucher listened intently, and Bridger did 
not fail to notice that his humor became better all the 
while. 

In fact, the detective instinctively felt that Goucher had 
learned points which he intended to use. 

At length, just before the cab pulled up at the ferry, he 
slapped Bridger in a patronizing way upon the shoulder, 
and became profuse in his apologies as to the attempt upon 
his life. 


176 DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEB. 

The trap, he explained, was in the place when he first 
took it. 

He doubted not that it had done bad work in times past, 
but his first attempt to use it was as Bridger had witnessed. 

He had tried to kill him, he admitted. 

But he should remember that he had served eighteen 
years of his life in prison, was now an old man, and that 
he firmly believed at the time that he was after him on a 
charge that might consign him to a prison again. 

“And rather than go there again,” he added, “ I would 
kill myself. So then how can you blame me for trying to 
kill you, believing as I did ?” 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A CORONER’S inquest. 

On reaching the ferry the Scotch detective procured 
seven passage tickets for Alton, and the party were soon 
comfortaly distributed in the four sections of the Pitts- 
burgh sleeping-car. 

By the kindness of the train’s conductor, Bridger dis- 
patched two telegrams at the first telegraph station. 

One informed the coroner at Alton that the detectives 
and their witnesses were on the way. 

The second conveyed the same information to Detective 
Hoffman at Pittsburgh, and asked him to bring his prisoners 
to Alton by the first east-bound train. 

At nine in the morning the party from New York stepped 
from the train at the Alton depot, and found the sheriff of 
the county waiting to receive them. 

He informed them that Detective Hoffman and his pris- 
oners had already arrived, and awaited their coming at the 
coroner’s office. 

After breakfasting at the railway hotel the party repaired 
thither. 

The street in front of the large frame building in which 
the office was situated was crowded with people. 

By some effort the sheriff opened a gap in the eager 
throng, through which the party reached a side entrance. 

The sheriff led to a large room in the rear part of the 
building, where a fire burned cheerily. 

By request of the detectives, Annette, Meg, Dr. Macy, 
Goucher, and “ Silly” Billy remained here, while they ac- 
companied the sheriff to the office adjoining. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


177 


It was a large, carpetless, barn-like room. 

Upon four chairs at its center rested an undertaker’s ice- 
box, in which, covered by a coarse canvas, lay the dead 
man’s body. 

Seated near here the coroner, the jury, the two physi- 
cians, and the railway’s attorney. 

A dozen railroad laborers, hats off, stood respectfully 
aside. 

To the left, by themselves, sat Detective Hoffman and 
his two prisoners. 

The men were dressed fashionably, and wore a defiant air 
of injured innocence. 

In the one the Scotch detective and Bridger instantly 
recognized the red-bearded, squeaking-voiced Englishman 
who had purchased the sand-bag in Goucher’s den. 

His fellow was a thin little man, wearing a long black 
beard, and coughing incessantly. 

His assurance was interesting, and he ogled everything 
and everybody through his fashionable single-barreled eye- 
glass, as if all present were but swine as compared to him- 
self. 

As the detectives and the sheriff entered, the coroner, 
attorney, and Hoffman sprang to their feet and approached 
them. 

Hoffman’s hand clutched Bridger’s, and Bridger intro- 
duced the Scotch detective. 

“I’ll give you the pointer,” whispered Hoffman in Brid- 
ger’s ear. “that this man Yidere has sent fifty telegrams to 
Washington, and a dozen cablegrams to England, since 
I’ve had him in charge, and the British Minister has en- 
listed the good-will of the railway company and its attor- 
ney to secure his release. ” 

“Gentlemen,” said the attorney, coming forward, “an 
outrage has been committed in the arrest of these gentle- 
men — two English tourists, indorsed by a number of the 
leading firms in London — and I have special instructions 
from Washington to secure their release.” 

“ Are you the coroner ?” asked the Scotch detective. 

“No, sir; I am the railway company’s attorney at this 
place — ” 

“And I am the coroner,” said a portly, gray-haired man, 
stepping forward. 

“ A word in private with you, ” quoth the Scotch detec- 
tive, and the detectives and the coroner retired aside. 

The attorney dropped to a seat near the prisoner’s, and 
held a whispered consultation. 


178 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


A moment later, with an air of authority, the coroner 
strode to his desk, and seated himself behind it. 

“We will now proceed to business,” he said. 

“One moment,” interposed the attorney. “I beg, sir, 
that you will not place undue stress on what these detective 
officers have to say to you. My clients, I understand, are 
the custodians of a vast estate in England, and it is their 
belief that a scheme has been set on foot by conspirators 
and also claimants to wrest valuable properties from them. 
The large interests at stake would warrant these operators 
to employ detectives to traduce the character of my clients, 
and you yourself well understand, sir, that by all report a 
detective’s cunning is only outstripped by the cupidity of 
the fraternity. I beg of you, sir, to demand proof, and 
that you will not cause our sheriff to imprison these 
gentlemen on foreign evidence such as these gentlemen 
will endeavor to offer. ” 

“Proofs we want and must have,” returned the coroner. 
“ And you can rest assured that my action will not be a 
hasty one. The jury are here waiting to receive evidence, 
and we will proceed to take evidence, beginning with that 
of the section-boss, who found the body. Peter Horton ?” 

“ Here, sir !” and the man stepped forward. 

The coroner administered the usual oath, and said : 

“ Horton, go on, and tell us what you know about this 
body.” 

“ I wor goin’ up the mountain yesterday mornin’ wid the 
boys on the hand-truck to work on the thrack, whin in the 
cut above I found the body. The man was lying to the 
right of the thrack wid his head against the bank, and 
doubled up loike as if he had fallen from the thrain. ” 

“The express train had just passed west, had it not?” 
asked the attorney. 

“Yis, sor.” 

“Well, what did you do with the body?” asked the 
coroner. 

“We put it on the truck, brought it to the depot, and 
delivered it into yer honor’s hands, sor.” 

“One word,” quoth the attorney. “Did you see any 
weapon, club or anything lying near ?” 

“None, sor.” 

“Not even a bloody stone, or anything that might have 
been used in striking the body ?” 

“ No, sir. There wor no blood. The back part of the 
neck and the right side of the head wor much bruised, but^ 
there wor no blood. ” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGEB. 


179 


“Showing conclusively,” said the attorney, “that the 
man fell from the train by accident, and thus met his 
death. ” 

“ I will now call Dr. Luden,” continued the coroner, turn- 
ing to where the doctor sat. 

“ Doctor, you will please state the result of your inspec- 
tion of the body. ” 

“I found,” returned the doctor, after kissing the book, 
“ that the neck had been dislocated, and that the right side 
of the head was bruised. ” 

“Were there any bruises on the body?” 

“None.” 

“What is your opinion as to the cause of the man’s 
death ?” 

“ The man was in a very weak state, and thoroughly 
wasted with pulmonary disease, and, doubtless, in attempt- 
ing to cross the platforms lost his balance and fell from the 
train. He evidently struck on the right side of his head, 
dislocating his neck, and dying instantly. ” 

Dr. Miller, on being called, made a like statement. 

“ I will now call Alfonse Godot,” said the coroner, and the 
consumptive prisoner arose, and stepped forward grandly. 

After administering the oath, the coroner continued : 

“ What is your name, sir ?” 

“My name is Alfonse Godot.” 

“ Where do you reside ?” 

“In England.” 

“ Occupation ?” 

“ A gentleman — hic-chew ! — of wealth and leisure, sir !” 

“You know the gentleman sitting there?” pointing to 
Videre. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ His name ?” 

“Pere Videre. He is — hic-chew ! — my agent, sir !” 

“ Did you pass westward in his company on the express 
train yesterday ?” 

“ No, sir. I met him at the depot at Pittsburgh yesterday, 
where we were apprehended — hic-chew ! hie chew ! hic- 
chew ! — by yonder ruffian. ” 

“ Might I ask your business in this country ?” 

“ It is impertinent, sir — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! — highly im 
pertinent, sir — hic-chew ! — but as it seems the custom of 
the tawdry country to heap either offensive obtrusion or 
despicable indignity upon — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! — I suppose 
I must state that I suffer from a pulmonary complaint, and 
travel for my health. However, I have been — hic-chew ! 


180 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEK. 


hic-chew ! — for some years in India, and learned on my 
return to England that a girl who claims to be my long- 
lost daughter — family disagreement, you know — resided 
with some vulgar persons in America, or, bay Jove ! — hic- 
chew ! hic-chew ! — I should never have ventured to the 
vulgar country. ” 

“Your aim is, then, to meet your daughter?” 

“Precisely, sir. It was — hic-chew! hic-chew! — arranged 
that I should meet the vulgar people who claim to have her 
in charge in Pittsburgh. But I suppose that — hic-chew ! 
hic-chew ! the same ruffians who have caused us to be de- 
tained have also — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! — prevented their 
coming. And I assure you, sii , that so soon as I have my 
liberty, I propose to — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! — accompany my 
agent to Washington, and after laying claim for heavy 
damages against the authorities of your State through the 
British Minister, I will — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! sail at once 
for England, and let the world know what a miserable blot 
on Christendom this vulgar — hic-chew ! hic-chew ! — land 
is!” 

The coroner was a patriotic citizen, and his face became 
as red as fire, his eyes flashed, and his huge fists doubled, 
as if he felt like crushing the dignified but insulting in- 
valid. 

At this point the Scotch detective asked if he might be 
permitted to ask the witness a question. 

Obtaining the coroner’s consent, he said : 

“Low bridge ! Wilberforce J. St. Clair !” 

The dignified invalid started back, trembled violently, 
and fixed his eyes in a wild stare upon the Scotch detec- 
tive. 

The shock was only momentary, however, for like a 
veteran he. quickly rallied, and turning toward the coroner, 
demanded : 

“ What means this paltry ruffian, sir ?” 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE INQUEST CONCLUDED. 

“We will now hear Pere Videre,” said the coroner. 

The dignified invalid muttered something about the 
horrid atrocity and stupid barbarity of American institu- 
tions, and resumed his seat with a lofty and injured air, 
and Pere Videre arose, and stepped forward. 


DETECTIVE BOB BPJDGEB. 


181 


After the form of an oath the coroner said : 

“What is your name, sir?” 

u My name is Pere Videre,” returned the prisoner in the 
peculiar piccolo voice which the detectives had heard in 
Goucher’s den. 

“And your business?” 

“I am agent for Alfonse Godot, Esquire.” 

“ That gentleman ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You passed westward upon the express train yesterday 
morning ?” 

“Yes, sir Mr. Godot had preceded me, and I met him, 
as per appointment, at Pittsburgh. ” 

The coroner stepped forward, and turned back the canvas 
cover of the ice-box so as to reveal the calm face of the 
corpse. 

“ Did you ever see this face before ?” asked the coroner. 

Videre glanced hastily toward the face of the dead man, 
and, with a shudder, answered : 

“ No.” 

“ Why do you shudder ?” 

“ I am not an undertaker, a physician, or morgue-keeper. 
A dead man is abhorrent to my nerves. ” 

At this moment the sheriff ushered Goucher into the 
coroner’s presence. 

“I would beg, sir,” said the Scotch detective, “that you 
ask the prisoner if he knows this gentleman. ” 

“ Do you, sir ?” asked the coroner, pointing to Goucher. 

“No, sir,” returned Videre, bending his cold gray eyes 
unflinchingly upon Goucher’s features. 

“ Did you not purchase a weapon called a sand-bag from 
this man in New York recently ?” demanded the coroner, 
sternly. 

“You are insulting, sir. I claim my attorney’s protec- 
tion. I will not answer you.” 

“Please swear this man,” said the attorney, indicating 
Goucher. 

The coroner did so. 

“Now, tell me, sir, what your charge is against this 
gentleman ?” demanded the attorney. 

“ I have no charge to make, ” returned Goucher. “ I am 
here against my will, but I identify that gentleman as a 
man who came to my house in New York, and desired me 
to procure him a weapon with which he might defend 
himself. He said that he was traveling in company with a 
person whom he feared had planned* to attack and knock 


182 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


him from a running train on his journey, and he wished 
a weapon which he might destroy should he be forced to 
use it.” 

“Monstrous !” exclaimed Videre, angrily. 

“Be calm, Mr. Videre,” cautioned the attorney. 

“Now, sir, you say you sold this gentleman such a 
weapon ?” 

“Yes, sir. I sold him a sand-bag which I had lying about 
as a curiosity, and it was of such a nature that the copper- 
filings which it contained might be poured forth, and the 
bag burned.” 

“How do you identify this gentleman as the purchaser?” 

“ By his strange voice and general appearance. ” 

“Did you ever see him before he made the purchase?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Are you acquainted with the detective officers near 
you ?” 

“I know Detectives Bridger and Hoffman.” 

“ What is your business ?” 

“I keep a liquor store.” 

“ That will do, sir. ” 

At this point the Scotch detective led Annette, Meg 
Bolard, Dr. Macy, and “ Silly” Billy into the room. 

Annette screamed in terror as her eyes rested upon the 
box containing the corpse, and clung tremblingly in fear to 
the Scotch detective. v 

All eyes were directed toward the group. 

“Do you know these people?” demanded the coroner, 
pointing toward them. 

“I do not,” returned Videre, coolly. 

“Och, is it there ye are, Mister Pere Videre, me purty 
jail-bird, ‘Squeeler’ Jack Drugo? It’s mesilf, Meg Bolard, 
that knows you thin !” 

The crazy giant began to dance and titter, and his face 
beamed in recognition upon the prisoner. 

“ ’Ow is you, Mr. Videre?” he said. “Hi knows ’im ! ’e ! 
’e ! ’e ! Why, hanybody would know Mr. Videre, ’e ; ’e ! 
’Is voice hidentifies hitself ! e ! ’e ! See-ree-go !” 

“Wait until you are sworn !” roared the coroner, while 
he glared in astonishment at the antics of “ Silly” Billy. 

“Swear me thin, and be quick about it,” demanded Meg, 
as she dealt the crazy giant a blow with her hand, and bade 
him cease his performance. 

The coroner swore Meg, and asked her to state what she 
knew of Videre. 

“Know him! Sure, thin, it’s mesilf knows him as well 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


183 


as I know his father, who was for twinty years my own 
husband. ” 

“Do you say that you are his mother ?” 

“No, indade. Heaven above saved me that shame.” 

“Well, what do you know of him?” 

“ Know av him, is it ? I know that he was clerk of the 
old man Godot’s estates in England, av which me husband 
was the head gardener. And I know that betune the two 
av them they put up the job to murder old Godot, and 
thimsilves take the estates. And I know that this man 
Videre brought this poor 4 pig- widgeon’ from London to 
commit the crime and take the blame av it after the two of 
thim had kidnapped the master’s son to sea.” 

44 ’E, ’e ! We hexported ’im on the bloomin’ bark a thou- 
sand miles haway, ’e, ’e ! din we, Mr. Videre? ’e, ’e, ’el” 
simpered “Silly” Billy. 

Videre remained cool and undisturbed. 

4 4 And I know,” continued Meg, 44 that me ould fagot of a 
husband wouldn’t permit Billy heer to do the murther for 
fear he would give it away afther. And I know that me 
husband himself cut the old man’s throat, and this man 
obtained possession of the estates in keeping for the absent 
son. And there they committed another murder — for the 
poor deserted woife of the kidnaoped son came from the 
strates of London to old Godot’s land — but Heaven above 
heard her prayer. For whin she fell exhausted at me hus- 
band’s door- step, and niver spoke afther, but to name the 
choild, I took the babe to me arms. And there she is now, 
the thrue owner of the Godot estates, for ye, Pere Videre, 
and at her soide is Detective Fandon, of the Scotland Yard 
that’s lookin’ for ye — lookin’ for ye ! and who’ll have ye 
soon, Jack Drugo, in yer old lodging-house, Millbank 
prison. That for ye, ye dirty dog !” 

For the first time Videre began to show uneasiness, and 
he eyed the Scotch detective keenly. 

As Meg ended her tirade, and the sheirff led her aside, 
the dignified invalid suddenly sprang to his feet and ap • 
proached Annette in a highly dramatic manner. 

44 Then,” he said, 4 4 this — this is my long-lost daughter, 
Annette. ” 

44 You !” cried Dr. Macy, confronting the man. 44 Avaunt ! 
thou base impostor !” 

“Down brakes, Wilberforce !” said Bridger, and the dig- 
nified invalid sat down. 

44 Swear this gentleman, please,” said the Scotch detec- 
tive, meaning Dr. Macy. 


184 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


“Please state,” began the coroner, when the old doctor 
had been sworn, “if you know personally Alfonse Godot?” 

“I do. Alfonse Godot married my daughter Alice. I re- 
cently accompanied him from Madras to London.” 

“Is this man Alfonse Godot?” demanded the coroner, 
pointing toward the dignified invalid. 

“He is not.” 

“Please look at the body and see if you can identify it.” 

Dr. Macy moved slowly forward, leaning on Bridger’s 
arm, and as if he dreaded the spectacle. , 

As his eyes fell upon the features of the dead he groaned 
heavily, clasped his hands to his head in agony of horror, 
staggered aside, and would have fallen had not Bridger 
caught him. 

“Great Heaven” he cried, in a hoarse whisper. “It is 
too true — too true. It is Alfonse Godot — murdered.” 

Annette became pale as death and fell sobbing in the 
Scotch detective’s arms. 

“What pantomine is this?” demanded Videre, rising 
suddenly in anger. “What woes these people may have I 
know not, nor want to know. I demand that I be at once 
released from custody.” 

“There is evidently either a painful mistake or cleverly 
planned conspiracy at work here, ” said the attorney, ad- 
dressing the coroner. ‘ ‘ But there is no proof that either 
of these prisoners was ever in the company of the deceased, 
much less that they are in any way implicated in his 
death. The high indorsement of the British Minister at 
Washington offsets the oath of this man Goucher, whose 
appearance alone is sufficient to nullify his statement ; and 
I therefore demand the prompt exoneration of these 
gentlemen.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Dr. Macy, solemnly, his pale features, 
gray hair, and earnest utterance impressing the jurors that 
he spoke the truth, “I must ask you, in the name of jus- 
tice, to hold these men. I understand this case fully, and 
even know that this man here dead is Alfonse Godot, so do 
I believe that one of these prisoners is his murderer, and 
the other a base impostor in his service. ” 

“I have here,” said the Scotch detective, “a miniature 
of Alfonse Godot and his wife, Alice. The portraits were 
taken some twenty years past, but I will ask you to look 
well at them, and see which of the two faces the male 
pictures resemble most, and if the lady’s picture does not 
resemble the young lady in my arms,” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


185 


Taking the miniatures from the Scotch detective’s hand, 
Bridger passed them to the coroner. 

He looked at them carefully, and then passed them to 
the jurors. 

Between the male portrait and the features of the digni- 
fied invalid, there was no resemblance whatever. 

The coronor and the jurors approached the ice-box that 
they might compare the miniature with the features of the 
dead. 

The Scotch detective led Annette forward toward the 
body. 

She stood a moment gazing at the peaceful face, stooped 
and implanted a kiss upon the dead man’s forehead, and 
fell back sobbing in the Scotch detective’s arms. 

Dr. Macy, as she turned aside, drew back the canvas, 
disclosing the naked breast of the corpse. 

There, visible to all, was the name in India ink, u Alfonse 
Godot.” 

To it the old doctor pointed with dramatic earnestness. 

The effect was instantaneous. 

A hasty consultation between the coroner and the jurors 
ensued, and the coroner said : 

“Sheriff, our duty will be to consign these prisoners to 
your keeping.” 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

VIDERE IN PRISON. 

The railway attorney made a vigorous speech protest 
against a verdict inculpating the prisoners on the evidence. 

He called to the coroner’s mind that he had been elected 
to his place by the votes of a railway city, and that the 
railway officials believed that the dead man had met his 
death by falling from the train. 

He demanded the adjournment of the inquest until the 
day following, that he might be able to present new evi- 
dence, and the coroner, somewhat cowed, adjourned the 
inquest until the next day at ten A. M. 

The sheriff, Bridger, and Hoffman, followed by the 
crowd on the street, escorted the prisoners to the town jail. 

Here the railway attorney held a long conference with 
them, then hastened to his office and began dispatching 
telegrams by the dozen, east and west, in the interest of 
his clients. 


186 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


Noticing his determined action, the sheriff telegraphed 
the district attorney, resident in the county town some 
miles distant, requesting his prompt presence in Alton. 

Meanwhile Goucher had disappeared, and the detective 
learned on inquiry that a person answering his description 
had taken the noon train eastward toward New York. 

The Scotch detective had secured quarters for the party 
at the railway hotel, and had accompanied Annette, Meg, 
Dr. Macy, and “Silly” Billy thither. 

At dusk in the evening the district attorney arrived. 

The sheriff met him at the train, and escorted him to 
where the three detectives sat enjoying a quiet smoke after 
their evening meal. 

“ I feel assured that we have a tough case upon our 
hands,” he said, when he had been apprised of the facts 
regarding the case in hand. “Under ordinary circum- 
stances it would he perfectly clear for procedure, but it 
would seem, by the manner in which the railway’s at- 
torney is working, that he is urged on by support of a 
most influential nature. The British Minister, possibly 
calling the administration at Washington to his aid, has 
doubtless given it as his belief that the men are innocent, 
and requested that no expense be spared to secure their 
speedy release. He has, no doubt, received satisfactory 
answers by cable, and is striving in good faith to set free 
two of his countrymen falsely accused in a strange land. 
The power of the railroad company has been enlisted — a 
change of venue may be obtained, the prisoners transferred 
to a distant city, and released. 

“I am indeed sorry,” added the attorney, “that there is 
not a trifle more direct testimony. 

“I cannot see what more direct testimony could be had, 
unless some one had actually seen the murder done,” 
returned the Scotch detective. 

“Yes, or that the dead man had been seen in Videre’s 
company by any one, anywhere,” said the attorney. 

“ Evidence that they have been seen together, and were 
together on the train can be produced. ” 

“Ah — but when?” 

“If time is the question,” quoth the Scotch detective, 
“ I think I can furnish you direct evidence of Videre’s guilt, 
and that his companion in prison is an impostor in his 
service, to-night.” 

“ To-night ! How ?” 

“By his own confession.” 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


187 


“ If you can do that, we may defy all the influence in the 
world.” 

******** 

An hour later the district attorney, the sheriff, coroner, 
and three detectives entered the town jail. 

It was now eight by the clock. 

The sheriff conducted the party to the office of his 
deputy, at the right of the entrance. 

In a large room to the left, at the farther end of the 
stone hall- way, Videre and the invalid were confined. 

Light streamed through the grated door-way into the 
dark corridor without. 

Videre sat reading a paper near a table in the center of 
the room, on which a lamp burned brightly. 

To all appearance he seemed calm and untroubled ; so 
much so that his air was that of a gentleman reading the 
news of the day at his own fireside. 

The railway attorney had assured him that as there was 
no direct testimony against him, in a few days, at most, 
he would be free. 

In the stove near by a cheerful fire glowed, dispelling the 
damp air of the prison. 

At the rear of the room were a number of beds. 

Upon one of these the invalid had thrown himself with- 
out disrobing, and was evidently sleeping soundly. 

A bottle stood on the floor near the bed, and he had 
doubtess drank deeply of its contents. 

When everything had been arranged to set on foot the 
Scotch detective’s experiment, the sheriff’s deputy emerged 
from the office into the corridor. 

On his left arm rested a tray upon which had been placed 
a plate of cold turkey, bread, butter, a bottle of beer, and 
a glass. 

Envelopes, paper, an ink- stand, pens, and the Scotch 
detective’s necromantic glass were also among the articles 
thereon. 

Advancing to the room’s grated door, the deputy inserted 
the key and turned the heavy % lock. 

“Oh, it’s you, constable” remarked Videre, as the officer 
entered. 

“Yes,” returned the deputy. “I have orders to make 
your stay here as comfortable as possible, under the cir- 
cumstances. ” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

“ And fearing that you might wish a lunch during the 


188 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


night, I have brought you here a little snack of turkey, 
bread, and beer. Here, also, are the writing materials you 
asked for, pens, ink, paper, envelopes, paper weight, every- 
thing needed, I believe. And, now, is there anything 
further that I may bring you before I retire for the night ?” 

“Not that I think of, thank you ; your kindness, let me 
say, shall earn you a fitting reward, ere I depart from your 
keeping.” 

u And, as to Mr. Godot, does he require anything ?” 

“ Bless you, no ! Ha, ha ! that bottle of tipple was a little 
too much for him. You see he is as drunk as a lord. Poor 
fellow ! he is nearly gone with consumption, and this has 
been a terrible ordeal to his sensitive mind. Fancy a sick 
gentleman, traveling for his health, imprisoned thus. Oh, 
let him sleep. He knows the taste of liquor, and it is a 
comfort to know that he has indulged freely, and is now, 
for the night, free from the cares that would sorely press 
on him were he awake to realize them.” 

“Well, there’s nothing else, then, that you think of?” 

“No, sir; many thanks. Good-night, sir.” 

“Good-night.” 

The deputy passed into the corridor as he spoke, secured 
the iron door, and returned to the office. 

An hour passed, and the deputy reported that Videre 
had partaken of the lunch, and was writing. 

A half-hour later he brought the information that the 
prisoner had taken the supposed paper-weight in his hand 
and was intently gazing at it. 

Some while afterward he returned to say that Videre 
still sat bolt upright, glaring at the necromantic glass in 
his hand, and that the invalid was snoring heavily as if in 
a drunken stupor. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

DEATH OF THE DIGNIFIED INVALID. 

At that moment the railway’s attorney entered the office 
of the jail. 

“I have sent for you, Mr. Blair,” said the district 
attorney, extending his hand, “so that it may not be said 
that anything has been done regarding the important case 
on hand, in darkness.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I desire to ask if in your honest judgment you hold the 
prisoners in custody guiltless ?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


189 


“ I do, but that is an unwarranted question to ask their 
attorney. ” 

“True, but it is understood that nothing which may 
transpire here to night is to be brought forth on either side 
on the witness-stand.” 

“ That is understood, eh ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Give me some insight, then, as to what you are driving 
at*?” 

“Suppose you were present with direct evidence show- 
ing that the prisoner, Videre, had bean in company with 
the dead man on the morning of his death, evidence that 
he had struck the fatal blow with the sand bag, what would 
you say then ?” 

“It would still be my privilege to defend him ; but you 
can produce no such evidence. ” 

“ It is believed that we can produce even more direct 
evidence than that. ” 

“What?” 

“A confession of the crime.” 

“ How?” 

“By mesmeric influence.” 

“ I protest that such evidence would be received by no 
court in Christendom. ” 

“ I agree with you there. ” 

“Then why permit this outrageous attempt upon the 
prisoner ?” 

“ It is done by Detective Fandon, that he may be aided 
in adducing proof for the State. ” 

“ A detective has no right to tamper with a prisoner in 
custody.” 

“ In his efforts to fasten crime, he has a right to approach 
a prisoner, if given that privilege by the custodian of the 
prison. ” 

“ And I have given my consent, ” said the sheriff. 

“You have then desired my attendance to witness this 
performance ?” 

“To witness the detective’s effort, and since you are 
assured of your client’s innocence, you certainly have no 
reason to object.” 

“ I will not, for I have little faith that the experiment 
will amount to anything. So proceed.” 

The deputy led toward the room in which the prisoners 
were confined, closely followed by the Scotch detective. 

The door was softly opened, the Scotch detective per- 
mitted to enter, and the door closed after him. 


190 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


The party in the corridor formed in a half circle about 
the grated door, so that all might see and hear what passed 
within. 

Videre still sat stolidly staring at the dark glass in his 
hand. 

It was evident that he had succumbed fully to its mys- 
terious influence. 

Drawing a chair to the prisoner’s side, the Scotch detec- 
tive placed his right hand beneath and against the hand in 
which rested the oval ball of glass. 

“Well, Pere,” said he, in a low, distinct voice, “you see 
that your old father, * Iron 1 Mike Drugo, is here with you ?” 

“Yes — so you are,” returned the prisoner, without re- 
moving his glance from the glass. 

“ And what have you to say to your old dad ?” continued 
Fandon. 

“ Times are tough on us, aren’t they ?” returned the pris- 
oner, as before. 

“The man is surely under mesmeric influence,” whis- 
pered the district attorney, and those standing near, in- 
cluding the railway’s attorney, assented. 

“Not so bad, Pere,” continued the Scotch detective. 
“You didn’t think that I would leave you in a flimsy 
country prison, did you ? Why, as soon as I heard of it I 
was on hand, put my old tricks to practice, and don’t you 
see, I’ve got you safe here and hid in my hotel at Garson?” 

“ So you have.” 

“ I think it strange you did not write me ?” 

“But I did.” 

“When?” 

“ Twice before I left England, and three times from New 
York.” 

“ What did you say in the letters ?” 

“ I told you that Godot had suddenly turned up from 
India, and had come out to the estate. I was there, lucky 
enough, seeing after the building of a new practice track, 
and stables for some fresh racing stock I had bought. I 
never dreamed of his turning up, and wasn’t fixed to give 
things over to him just then. ” 

“ But you thought you would be compelled to, eh ?” 

“Yes, at first. But he told that he had learned he had a 
daughter living in America, and by seeming to take great 
interest in the matter, I managed to get him out of England 
without making legal claim to the property.” 

“That was good, and what was your plan for America?” 

“To put him out of the way, of course.” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


191 


“Well, how did you go about it?” 

“I was a long time making up my mind, but I concluded 
to knock him from a running railway train. ” 

“Well, how did you proceed?” 

“I managed to get a sand bag from a ‘crooked’ man in 
New York, which I could readily destroy after using it.” 

“ What was the next move ?” 

“ I met a consumptive swindler in a restaurant one night, 
who might answer the description of Godot. ” 

“ What did you do with him ?” 

“ I followed him from the place, and made a trade with 
him.” 

“ In what way ?” 

“ I was to pay him so much money down, so much week- 
ly, and one thousand pounds in the end, if he would go on 
ahead to Pittsburgh, represent himself as Alfonse Godot, 
and carry out my instructions. ” 

“ Did he go to Pittsburgh ?” 

“Yes.” 

“What was the next move?” 

“ I wrote you to bring Annette to Pittsburgh, to meet her 
true father.” 

“ Then the consumptive was to play father to Annette ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And what was he to do with her ?” 

“ I intended that they should both go to Florida, and, in 
some such way as the overturning of a pleasure-boat, stay 
there. ” 

“Well, how did the thing work?” 

“I left New York with Godot on the night train.” 

“ Where did you go ?” 

“To Philadelphia, and changed the direction of the 
journey from there to Pittsburgh. ” 

“ That was cute. What happened ?” 

“ I tried to get him several times on the platform, to take 
the air, while the train rushed along, but he would not go.” 

“Stubborn, eh?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, what next?” 

“ When the train stopped for breakfast at Alton, I asked 
him off to breakfast. 

“Well?” 

“ He said he was not hungry, so I finally coaxed him off 
to get a hot whisky punch. ” 

“ Where did you get it ?” 

“About a block away from the railway hotel.” 


192 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 


44 Who served you ?” 

44 A boy.” 

“ What did you do then ?” 

M I suggested a walk up the track for a little exercise.” 

44 He consented ?” 

“No, he refused, because it was drizzling rain.” 

44 What then?” 

44 I told him that he had his overcoat on, and would be in 
danger of hemorrhage if he did not take exercise after 
taking the hot toddy. ” 

“ Did he go, then ?” 

44 Yes — reluctantly. ” 

“Well?” 

41 1 urged him to a brisk walk, so that I might do the 
work, and catch the train. ” 

41 Did you meet any one on the way ?” 

44 Only two or three shop hands with dinner buckets. ” 

44 Did they notice you ?” 

44 No.” 

44 Well, how did you proceed?” 

44 When we reached the cut I looked back, and saw no 
one looking.” 

“Well?” 

44 A large bowlder of rock, at the cut’s right side, hid the 
town and station from view, and I crowded him over be- 
hind it, telling him that it was better walking. ” 

“Well ?” 

4 4 So soon as he stepped aside from the track I pulled the 
sand-bag from my pocket, and struck him across the back 
of the neck.” 

44 How did he take it ?” 

44 He never spoke. ” 

44 It settled him, eh ?” 

44 Yes. His head fell back on his shoulders, and his body 
fell forward against the side of the cut. It was a sickening 
sight. ” 

44 1 grant you. What next?” 

44 1 knew his neck was broken, but I struck him a dozen 
blows on the head to make sure. ” 

“What then?” 

44 1 took everything from his pockets which might identify 
him.” 

“Well ?” 

44 1 heard the engines blowing off steam, and, fearing that 
the train would go off without me, I hastened back.” 

44 And caught the train ?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


193 


“Yes ; it did not start for five minutes after I returned.” 
“Were you not afraid that the conductor would miss 
Godot?” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“I had learned that the conductors changed at Alton.” 

“ Did they ?” 

“Yes, it was a new conductor.” 

“ So you got on safely ?” 

“Yes, to Pittsburgh.” 

“ What happened at Pittsburgh ?” 

“ I met the man I had fixed it with to impersonate Godot 
at the depot.” 

“ What then?” 

“ Soon after we were arrested by the detective. ” 

“ Did the man weaken ?” 

“ Not at first. I gave him five hundred dollars in prison, 
and fresh instructions, assuring him that all would be 
fixed right by the British Minister. ” 

“ What then?” 

“ I telegraphed the Legation and gave prominent refer- 
ence in London, who have reason to consider me good.” 
“Well — is the man still determined to stick by you?” 

“He ‘squealed’ in the prison.” 

“He did, eh?” 

“Yes, he had a poor nerve.” 

“ What did he say ?” 

“ He said he was thankful for my bounty, and was will- 
ing to serve me so long as there was no hangman’s shadow 
in the background. ” 

“ And what did you do about it ?” 

“ I fixed him. ” 

“How ?” 

“The constable brought in a bottle of brandy.” 

“Well ?” 

“ I urged him to drink. ” 

“ W fiat — brandy ?” 

“Brandy and laudanum.” 

“Brandy and laudanum — you mixed it to suit his taste?” 
“No — to suit my purpose.” 

‘ ‘ How much of it did he swallow ?” 

“Sufficient.” 

“What did you do it for?” 

“To deaden his tongue.” 

“But did you not fear it would be found out?” 

“No.” 


194 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


“Why?” 

“The man was nearly dead with the consumption, and 
his troubles, and the overdose of liquor, will answer for the 
rest. ” 

“Where is the laudanum vial now?” 

“I broke it to pieces amid the burning coals in the stove.” 

At this point the party of watchers entered the room 
from the hall-way. 

They found that the invalid had almost ceased to breathe ; 
huge beads of perspiration stood upon his forehead, nor 
could they arouse him from his stupor. 

Bridger looked into the stove to see if he might find bits 
of glass in evidence of the laudanum vial, but without 
avail. 

The form of the dying man was borne from the room and 
placed upon a sofa in the office. 

A physician was sent for, and the deputy hastened to 
procure a bowl of strong coffee. 

Meanwhile the Scotch detective continued his mesmeric 
examination. 

“Well, Pere,” he said, “we’ve only got to look after the 
girl now ?” 

“Yes ; she must be got out of the way.” 

4 4 Has there been any sign of suspicion since regarding 
old Godot’s death?” 

“None.” 

“You remember the day of the murder?” 

4 4 Talk of something else. If you conjure up the sight of 
that old man with his gashed throat I will dream of it for a 
fortnight. ” 

4 4 You know how I killed him?” 

4 4 Certainly. You cut his throat with the razor.” 

4 4 But you urged me to it.” 

4 4 Yes ; it was necessary.” 

“You forged the paper that was accepted as his will, did 
you not ?” 

4 4 Certainly. But why do you ask such foolish ques- 
tions ?” 

Being anxious to learn the fate of the invalid, the Scotch 
detective here ended his mesmeric experiment. 

Removing the glass from the prisoner’s hand he placed it 
in his pocket, arose to his feet, and drew back his chair. 

As he did so Yidere, with a start, awoke. 

For an instant his eyes glared wildly upon Fandon, then 
springing to his feet, he began to pace to and fro in the 
room excitedly. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


195 


“I came to see if you required anything,” said the Scotch 
detective. 

Yidere made no answer, but continued his walk. 

The Scotch detective passed from the room to the hall- 
way, and Bridger who had waited without, locked the 
door. 

Meanwhile, the deputy had procured the coffee and en- 
deavored to make the insensible invalid swallow some of 
the liquid ; but the man’s breathing had grown slower and 
fainter, and when the Scotch detective and Bridger entered 
the office he was a corpse. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

DEATH OF VIDERE. 

The railway’s attorney approached the door of the room 
in which Yidere was confined, and endeavored to converse 
with him. 

The prisoner continued to walk to and fro in an excited 
manner, and answered the attorney’s questions in mon- 
osyllables, as if he did not wish to talk to any one. 

It was now getting well on toward midnight, and the 
party left the prison in a body. 

The case was a rare one, already involving three mur- 
ders, and afforded abundant topic for conversation. 

Even the railway’s attorney was now convinced that 
Yidere was a double murderer. 

He was non committal, however, and, like a true lawyer, 
busied his wits to find some loop on which to hang an ex- 
cuse for his client’s crime. 

At length he shadowed forth the plea he proposed to 
advance. 

“This man, Yidere,” said he, as the party neared the 
hotel, and were about parting for the night, “is, without a 
doubt, out of his head — insane.” 

The sheriff pooh-poohed the idea. 

‘ ‘ Did you not notice the wild look of the man as he paced 
to and fro in his room?” exclaimed the attorney. “He 
would not converse even with me, his attornev. Remem- 
ber, I do not say that he was out of his mind prior to 
Detective Fandon’s experiment ; but, I do aver, that he is 
as mad as a March hare now.” 

“The necromantic glass had no warrant to drive him 


196 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


crazy,” returned Bridger. “I have tried it, and the effect 
is to make one weak and dazed for a few minutes, but that 
soon wears off.” 

“By the way,” demanded the Scotch detective, “has 
Yidere been searched — might he have any weapons upon 
his person ?” 

• “He might have,” responded the sheriff, “for we do not 
search prisoners here when merely held for examination. ” 

“You should search all prisoners,” said the Scotch detec- 
tive, “and I would suggest that we make all haste back, 
and make the search in this case. ” 

“It is very late, and, doubtless, the deputy has retired,” 
objected the sheriff. 

“You must, then, assume the responsibility, if you sus- 
tain your objection,” quoth the Scotch detective. “I call 
all here to witness that I have made the suggestion. ” 

“Why, if you fear that any new trouble might result 
from letting the matter lie over until morning, we will re- 
turn and search the prisoner, ” returned the sheriff. 

“I can only say,” said the Scotch detective, “that I 
would rest far easier abed this night did I know that 
Yidere had no weapons on his person. The man is neces- 
sarily in an excited state of mind, and it is only proper that 
all care should be taken in the matter. ” 

“You do not intimate, do you,” queried the district attor- 
ney, “that there is danger of the prisoner killing himself?” 

“My past experience causes me to fear that,” returned 
the Scotch detective, “and, I may add, that I am even now, 
possessed of a feeling of dread that the man may have 
done so already.” 

“You alarm me !” exclaimed the sheriff. 

‘ ‘ It would not surprise me to find it so, ” said the Scotch 
detective. “ Yidere’ s father, when brought to corner under 
like circumstances, cut his throat, and I take great blame 
to myself that I did not take thought to search the pris- 
oner. It would be a terrible shock upon me to find that a 
repetition of Bolard’s death had occurred in this case, and 
I, therefore, beg of you all to, without delay, accompany 
me back to the prison. ” 

The Scotch detective’s manner was so earnest that with- 
out further question the party in a body turned with him 
back toward the jail. 

At every step Fandon’s anxiety seemed to become more 
intense. 

He reached the prison fully a hundred yards in advance 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 197 

of the rest, and, bounding up the stone steps, rapped loudly 
on the door. 

The building was dark, and it was evident that the 
deputy had retired to his cot in his office. 

The stirring events of the night had not permitted him to 
sleep too soundly, however, and as the main party arrived 
at the jail’s steps, the door of the prison opened. 

The deputy appeared in the door- way bare-headed, in his 
night-clothes, and glared upon his midnight visitors in 
astonishment. 

“Did you search that prisoner?” demanded the Scotch 
detective, excitedly. 

“No, sir,” returned the deputy. 

“Then get your keys — we must search him at once.” 

The deputy vanished to procure his keys, and the Scotch 
detective darted within the corridor. 

Half way toward the room, at the rear, he suddenly 
paused. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning about, “I feel — yes, I 
know, that we have come too late. I smell the odor of 
death. Pere Videre is dead !” 

“Nonsense!” sneered Bridger. “I’ll wager you he’s as 
lively as a cricket. ” 

As he spoke Bridger hastened toward the grated door of 
the room where Videre had been confined. 

Light streamed forth through the bars into the hall- way, 
and it was evident that the prisoner’s lamp was still 
burning. 

On the instant that Bridger reached the door, and peered 
within the room, he started back with a gesture of horror. 

But the Scotch detective, on reaching his side, rested his 
hands upon the iron bars and gazed calmly upon the scene 
within. 

Shaking his head solemnly, he said : 

“I knew it! I knew it !” 

Pere Videre’s dead body lay in a pool of blood to the 
right of the table within. 

In his hand was clutched a bloody pocket-knife, and a 
deep gash in his throat told the method of his suicide. 

A moment later the deputy flung open the door. 

The body was still warm, but life was extinct. 

“I trust,” said the Scotch detective, with evident emo- 
tion, “that no blame will attach to me for this terrible 
business.” 

“None whatever, my dear boy,” quoth the sheriff. 

“For my part,” said the railway's attorney, “I will hold 


198 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


you all, gentlemen, to the condition upon which I assented 
to view Detective Fandon’s mesmeric experiment upon the 
prisoner. That the evidence adduced would be received by 
no court was admitted. The world will know that these 
two prisoners were accused of murder, imprisoned here, 
and that one died by laudanum and the other by a knife in 
his own hand, and thus let the matter go forth and re- 
main. ” 

To this proposition all assented, and the undertaker’s 
conveyance was for the second time sent for. 

4 ‘It is terrible, Bobe, terrible !” said the Scotch detective, 
suddenly turning toward Bridger. ‘ ‘ I fancy I feel much as 
you did when in the discharge of your duties as conductor 
you caused the death of those two passengers. I have done 
with mesmeric experiments forever, and as for the necro- 
mantic glass — there !” 

As he spoke Fandon took the black ball of glass from his 
pocket, and dashed it into a thousand fragments upon the 
stone floor of the prison. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE BIG DIAMOND. 

On the following morning the work of framing a legal 
statement of the entire case began in the office of the rail- 
way’s attorney. 

Four copies were made of this statement, and the pro- 
cedure occupied two days. 

Copies of the documents were forwarded respectively to 
the British Minister at Washington, to the Scotland Yard, 
London, to the clerk of the county in which Garson was 
situated, and the fourth copy given to the Scotch detec- 
tive, and the original document retained by the district 
attorney. 

The bodies of Alfonse Godot and Pere Yidere were em- 
balmed and forwarded, in iron caskets, directly to police 
headquarters in London. 

Detective Hoffman was presented one thousand dollars 
by Dr. Macy for the efficient service he had rendered, and 
departed to resume his duties at Pittsburgh. 

The personal effects of the dead were delivered to 
Annette, who was declared their legal owner. 

Though at times sad in the realization of her father’s 
' ite, Annette seemed to grow more beautiful every hour 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGER. 


199 


under the sunshine and hope that help sway her glad 
heart. 

Meg, in whose hands a document had been placed re- 
leasing to her all claim to the estate of her late husband, 
carried her head erect, ever mindful that she was soon to 
assume the role of landlady in Bolard’s hotel. 

She occupied her time studying a fashion-book, and de- 
termining on the purchase of sundry articles of finery by 
whose assistance she proposed to squash sundry females of 
Garson, whose indulgent husbands had permitted them to 
outdress her during the reign of the late lamented land- 
lord. 

“Silly” Billy walked the streets of Alton expending the 
change which Dr. Macy freely furnished him. 

He visited every bar room and candy store in the town. 

The bartenders called him “Coal Oil Johnny.” 

He also became a great favorite with nurse-maids, wheel- 
ing about their charges, for he never passed a baby with- 
out placing a piece of candy in its chubby fists. 

Dr. Macy declared that he felt twenty years younger 
than he had done twenty years before in London, showing 
a clear gain of forty years in his heart’s feelings, which, by 
the way, is the true gauge of any one’s age. 

The day previous to the departure from Alton, Meg pur- 
chased a huge, green ostrich feather which she added to 
the decorations of her rakish brigand hat. 

That night Annette playfully reminded her that perhaps 
the good people of Garson might expect to see color, some- 
what more somber than green, upon a lone widow’s hat. 

But Meg responded, with a toss of the head : 

“Thrue for you, Annette, if it be thrue they are to behold 
a lone widow. But, in faith, if they do or no is at prisint 
a dape mystery. ” 

“Why, Mam Meg, is it possible you think of marrying 
again ?” 

“And why not? Sure I’m as young and full of giddiness 
as ever I was. ” 

Whereat Annette burst forth in such a merry peal of 
laughter that the musical sound thereof, reaching the 
hotel’s office, caused the clerk’s half dozen canaries that 
had placed their heads beneath their wings for the night, 
to brighten up, and trill forth in responsive song. 

At the time Dr. Macy, the Scotch detective, and Bridger 
sat quietly conversing in the office. 

Fandon turned his handsome face toward the stair- way, 


200 DETECTIVE BOB BftIDGEK. 

listening, and his black eyes flashed with undisguised 
delight. 

Tears of joy welled from Dr. Macy’s eyes. 

“Dear little light-hearted !” he exclaimed. “ How happy 
she is ? In her dreams pure as gold, gentle as fairy-land, 
the future is one never ending landscape of sunshine and 
flowers. ” 

“ Heaven grant all her dreams then, ” muttered the Scotch 
detective. 

“ And I echo your prayer, Fandon,” said Dr. Macy. “ She 
is a little angel, and you must make her a husband of hus- 
bands. ” 

“Then you do not object to the match?” 

“No, no, my brave boy, she is yours.” 

“ Then, indeed, I have met a rich reward for such service 
as I have done,” returned the Scotch detective, clasping the 
old man’s hand. 

“For your part, Bridger,” continued Dr. Macy, “I have 
not forgotten my offer of ten thousand dollars for Annette’s 
recovery, or that Fandon has waived all claim in your 
favor. I will give you a draft for the amount when we 
arrive in New York, and here I desire to present you a 
keepsake that I trust may continue to remind you of the 
happiness you have aided to bring to a heart-broken old 
man.” 

Dr. Macy took from his pocket and placed in Bridger’s 
hand a tiny paper box. 

“I have one just like it for you in England,” he added, 
addressing Fandon. 

Then bidding the two detectives good-night, the old man 
retired to his room. 

Bridger opened the box, and found that it contained a 
pure, white, ten-carat diamond, which sparkled grandly in 
the gas-light. 

That day the detectives had received several letters 
which had been forwarded by Bridger’s order from New 
York. 

One of these had been addressed to the Scotch detective, 
and taking it from his pocket, after complimenting Bridger 
upon the receipt of the magnificent brilliant, he said : 

“Here is something which will amuse Annette. What 
think you, Bobe — the fair and fiery little Corydon widow, 
that lovely, red-headed smuggler of choice Havanas, is to 
be married one week from to-night ?” 

“And who’s to be the lucky man?” 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


201 


“ Tom Bowling, the hotel clerk, of course. I and Annette 
are invited, and you, Bobe, and the doctor, must accompany 
us.” 

“ Thank you kindly, but somehow weddings don’t seem 
to run much in my line.” 

“But on this occasion I might need the assistance of a 
best man.” 

“ Ah, if you have thoughts of making the thing a double 
event I am at your command.” 

“Well, Bobe, that’s about the size of my present inten- 
tions,” quoth the Scotch detective, nestling back in his 
chair, and blowing the fragrant smoke of his cigar in 
circles above his head. 

“You see,” he continued, “every decent fellow ought, at 
some time, to become a family man, whatever be his trade. 
I don’t suppose that anything more attractive in the line 
of pins and petticoats is going to come my way — and I 
wouldn’t label it Mrs. Fandon if it would. But although I 
am, as I may say, an old ‘ rounder, ’ and well aware that 
my love is reciprocated, I find that proposing the exact 
moment when the knot is to be tied is a confounded ticklish 
matter. Wherefore I am very glad that Tom Bowling and 
the widow have extended us an invitation to their wedding, 
for somehow it seems that a woman doesn’t like to see an- 
other get the better of her in things matrimonial, and it 
will only be natural that Annette, when she hears of the 
widow’s wedding, will want to show her that she, too, 
holds a winning hand. And, therefore, from the present 
state of my heart, I conclude that she will most likely be- 
come Mrs. Fandon at the same time and place that Mrs. 
Bibby becomes Mrs. Tom Bowling.” 

This was not the hundredth part of what the Scotch de- 
tective said at the time on the subject. 

He continued to talk on and blow the smoke in wreaths 
above his head. 

His eyes were fixed dreamily the while on the curling 
vapor. 

In every wreath of it he saw framed a picture of his fair 
fiancee , and when the wreaths broke apart the blue smoke 
seemed, in his fancy, to swirl itself about and form the 
name “Annette.” 

Bridger did not fully appreciate these musings of the 
gallant man from Scotland Yard. 

In fact he lay back upon his chair and dropped into a 
doze. 

At midnight Fandon ran out of words expressive of the 


202 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


tender flame that possessed his breast, and observing 
Bridger’s condition, awoke him, and the two went to bed. 


CHAPTER L. 

THE BURGLARY PLANNED. 

At ten P.M. on the evening of the day of Goucher’s dis- 
appearance from Alton that gentleman arrived in New 
York. 

Going at once to his den on Delaney street he was made 
the recipient of a right royal thieves’ welcome. 

A motley throng of “ crooked” people, some ragged and 
dirty, others attired fashionably, pressed about and grasped 
his hand, as if he were a newly elected alderman. 

Their congratulations were noisy, and garnished with 
slang. 

Goucher testified his appreciation by frequently ordering 
drinks for the house. 

His liberality was responded to in like manner by every 
one present whose financial condition permitted him to so 
distinguish himself. 

The bar did a thriving trade, and as fresh gangs of 
“ crooks” dropped in the place at length became so crowded 
that Ted, the bartender, facetiously remarked that if the 
jubilee continued to boom it would become necessary to 
remove the paper from the wall to make room. 

Nevertheless the drinking went on, songs were sung, and 
dancing indulged in, until far beyond midnight. 

At length the more orderly persons present began to 
depart in twos and threes, and at three in the morning 
only those remained who had fully succumbed to the 
seductive influence of the flowing bowl. 

Of these there were two-score men and women. 

They had bestowed themselves in every conceivable 
shape on chairs, tables, and the floor. 

“ They are all as peaceful as the denizens of the morgue,” 
quoth Goucher, on conceiving the completeness of whisky’s 
victory. “So turn down the ‘glims,’ Ted, my boy, and we’ll 
go up stairs, the four of us — for I have something of in- 
terest for the interior portion of your private ears. ” 

The king of the “ken” as he spoke stood flanked by his 
trusty “pals,” “Tom, the Frog,” and “Jack, the Fork,” and 
Ted, the burly barman, at the word, set about lowering the 
lights. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


203 


“ Tom, the Frog, ” carried his right arm in a sling, and 
his face was adorned with several patches of court-plaster, 
in evidence of his fall through the trap. 

When the doors had been secured, and the lights turned 
low, the party ascended to the “ sawdust” den above, and 
lighting a candle, took seats about the table. 

“I’ve explained to you,” began Goucher, “all the events 
of my trip to the country save an inkling which I twigged, 
pointing toward business — in fact toward a job which bids 
fair to pay good. The safest job, in truth it is, that ever 
was aimed against a ‘boodle’ burdened safe.” 

“A job, eh?” said Ted, the bartender, edging eagerly to- 
ward Goucher. 

“You’re just like any other ‘freshman’ that has aspira- 
tions to try his hand as a ‘ cracksman, ’ ” continued “ Tom, 
the Frog.” “But when you’ve been as far into the mill as 
I’ve been, you won’t jump so quick at what at best is 
bloody, tough work. ” 

“No growlin’ now, Tom, boy,” quoth Goucher. “It 
wasn’t me that put you in the hole.” 

“ No — but I laid a day stiff from the business, and am 
pretty well broke up yet just the same.” 

“The more reason your heart should be cheered by a 
prospect of good ‘swag.’ But seeing that you’re hurt, we 
must take Ted along to do your work, and Dutch Hen can 
look after the bar.” 

“Well, out with it — what is it?” growled “Tom, the 
Frog,” squirming from a sudden twitch of pain in his 
broken arm. 

“ Muggins has got a safe in the room back of the old- 
clothes store, that’s just bustin’ ripe with ‘boodle’ — bonds, 
greenbacks, watches, diamonds, and the whole of it’s been 
got so ‘crooked’ that he dare not ‘squeal’ if he lost it. 
The ‘confoundland’ dog’s dead, and I’ve got the signal 
that’s open-sesame on his door.” 

“The dog’s dead, eh?” asked “Tom, the Frog,” his eyes 
now flashing eagerly, and his aching member forgotten. 

“Yes, the dog is dead.” 

“ How do you know ?” 

“I know, and there’s no particular use of recounting 
here a serial story about it. The dog’s dead, and I know it, 
or I wouldn’t say so.” 

“Good. What’s the signal?” 

“A tap on Rachel’s window.” 

“ Who opens the door ?” 

“She does.” 


204 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“But she’s a healthy woman, and has lungs.” 

“And we’re healthy men, and have hands.” 

“I see — muzzle her, fasten her down and the rest’s 
easy. ” 

“Just so.” 

“Well, when’s it to be?” 

“ Before they get another dog — to-morrow night, early. ” 
“Why early?” asked Ted, the bartender. 


CHAPTEE LI. 

THE BURGLARS SET FORTH. 

“ Because the whole business is as plain sailin’ as pickin’ 
up money from the gutter, and so's the virtuous feelin’s of 
the ‘peelers’ won’t be ruffled at seein’ a gentleman carryin’ 
a small bundle through the streets. ” 

“ So it’s to be without back-water, and dead to rights, to- 
morrow night ?” 

“Yes, that’s what I said. And now, how do your pulses 
beat on it ? Is it a go ?” 

And Goucher doubled his fist as if to strike the table. 

“ Go it is !” exclaimed all in a chorus, striking the table 
with their fists as they spoke, as to emphasize the bargain. 

Soon after Ted, the bartender, descended to the bar-room, 
and flung himself upon a mattress which he spread behind 
the bar, while the others entered the apartment adjoining 
the “ sawdust” den, and sought repose. 

At nine on the subsequent night Ted, the bartender, 
emerged from the side door of the Delaney street den and 
strode off toward the Bowery. 

Several minutes later “Jack, the Fork,” came forth, and 
after glancing cautiously up and down the street, started 
on a brisk walk in the opposite direction. 

“Tom, the Frog,” soon after made his appearance and, 
after surveying the surroundings as “Jack, the Fork,” had 
done, walked carelessly toward the Bowery. 

Five minutes elapsed, and then Goucher stepped forth 
upon the door-step, smoking a cigar. 

He stood here for a time, peering in all directions, and 
keeping his eyes on all passers. 

He, of the four men, had alone made an attempt at dis- 
guise. 

Being a large, portly man, he feared that his shape might 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


205 


betray him, and knowing that he could not reduce himself 
in size, he had so padded himself with the tools to be used, 
and otherwise, that his overcoat barely buttoned about the 
huge mass. 

He had also darkened his gray beard, hair, and eye- 
brows with a black cosmetic. 

A broad slouch hat covered his head, and at a casual 
glance any one would have set him down as a German 
lager vender, swelled to bursting by a too liberal patronage 
of his own goods. 

At length he waddled off slowly, as a very fat man might, 
shaping his way to the eastward, as “Jack, the Fork,” had 
done. 

At ten o'clock the four men met in the dark shadow of 
a church, near where East Broadway intersects Market 
street. 

A policeman, whose beat lay through East Broadway, 
had barely passed toward Chatham square, and the bur- 
glars had paused to give him time to go his way and get 
well out of theirs. 

The night was raw and black, and a drizzling rain was 
falling. 

Few people were upon the streets, and East Broadway 
was dark and deserted. 

Fortune in this regard had favored the dark scheme on 
hand, and, as Goucher expressed it, the “job” bade fair to 
be a “walk over.” 

“Suppose,” said “Jack, the Fork,” “that after all’s done 
the risk will have been run, and no ‘ swag’ visible ?” 

“Jack, the Fork’s” line of business, as we have seen, 
had been investigating the contents of careless people’s 
pockets. 

He had never “ given a hand” in a burglary before, and 
he evidently felt ill at ease in attempting the role of a 
burglar. 

Goucher was quick to perceive this, and he felt it to be 
his duty to give Jack some encouragement. 

“Bah !” he ejaculated. “I know the ‘boodle’s there, and 
I know the racket’s safe. If I didn’t know it was safe, 
and didn’t know the ‘ swag’ was there, and that they’d be 
no after-claps, do you think I’d be here ? Not much ! No- 
body has less love for lookin’ through iron bars than my- 
self, and all of you know that. ” 

“Who told you the ‘boodle’ was there ?” “Jack, the 
Fork,” ventured to ask. 

“Who told me, eh?” 


206 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGEK. 


“Yes.” 

4 ‘.One as knows. ” 

“ One of the 4 trippers’ that took you off on the rail ?” 

“No. Do you think I’d take such information from a 
‘fly cop?’ Not much! But I see your knees is gittin 1 a 
little weak, Jack, and so I’ll illustrate the business by 
tellin’ you a little story. You all know Dutch Hen, that’s 
tendin’ bar to-night for Ted ?” 

“Of course.” 

“Well, five years ago, Dutch Hen married a girl — do you 
know that ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Well, she was awful jealous of Hen. But she had no 
reason, for he loved the very cobble-stones she set her 
number twelves on. However, she was jealous, and a 
woman’s a woman at all times and forever as near as I can 
find out. Well, all run on so-so, till Hen was married a 
trifle over four years. Somehow or other they had then a 
pretty, rosy bit of a servant-maid lookin’ after the three- 
year old baby, and it seems that one day when his wife 
was out Hen came in, and, after huggin’ and kissin’ the 
baby, wound up by kissin’ Sarah, the maid. He didn’t 
mean no harm though, for he loved and respected his 
wife, even if he was a bartender. However, after a while, 
when the wife came in and took the little prattling boy 
onto her lap, what does the little cuss do, but, lookin’ first 
cunningly at Sarah and then at Hen, says he : 

“ ‘ Dot somefin’ for to tell oo, mamma. ’ 

“ Now, mind you, if the little rascal had done or said no 
more the thing was already out of the bag, for both Sarah’s 
and Hen’s faces were as red as fire, and the wife’s eyes 
were just a-shootin’ out daggers at the two of them. Hen 
grabbed up the basket the wife had brought in, and jerked 
out of it a couple of oranges and a package of candy that 
were lyin’ on top of the groceries. But it was no go. For 
as he tried to divert the little villain’s mind by crammin’ 
the stuff into his hands, that only convinced the wife all 
the more that Hen was a guilty man. 

“ ‘ What has oo dot to tell mamma?’ asked the wife. 

“The little scoundrel’s eyes glistened, and he pulied his 
mamma’s, head close to his lips, and eyed the trembling 
victims near in glory. In vain did Hen pull out his knife 
and make all sorts of hideous faces behind his wife’s back 
at him. 

“‘Papa tissed Sarah!’ said the little imp, and then he 
roared in baby laughter. 


DETECTIVE BOB*" BRIDGED. * 207 

“ That settled the whole business. All that Hen could 
do, and say, wouldn’t convince that woman different. She 
knew it was so. Sarah was bounced in just two seconds. 
Hen had to fly for his life in two more. But I believe 
they’ve got together again. And the moral of this tale is, 
Jack, that just as the woman knowed Sarah had been 
kissed by Hen, just so I know there’s big ‘boodle’ in Mug- 
gins’ safe.” 

“ Did a baby tell you ?” 

“No, but the next thing to a baby did.” 

“What?” 

“An idiot that didn’t know much more than a baby.” 

This seemed to reassure “ Jack, the Fork,” and, as the 
“ peeler” had had ample time to reach Chatham square, the 
burglars set forth, at a brisk walk, down East Broadway. 

As they approached the Muggins house they walked 
slower. 

Directly in front of it they paused. 

“The coast’s clear,” commanded Goucher. “Up to the 
door, Ted and Jack, you know what you’re to do.” 

Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the Fork,” pulled the 
black masks that were ready in their hats, over their faces, 
and hastening up the steps, stood near the door ready for 
action. 

Goucher followed them to the top of the steps, and, 
reaching forth, tapped lightly on the window with his 
cane ; then stepped aside. 

A moment later the key was cautiously turned in the 
lock, the bolt slid softly back, and the door opened, just a 
crack. 

Bachel’s caution, however, abetted her little, for, ere she 
had beheld who her visitors were, or had opportunity to 
close the door, it was pushed violently open, and she was 
roughly seized, gagged, and blindfolded. 

Goucher and “Tom, the Frog,” now hastily followed into 
the hall-way, closed, and locked the door behind them. 

Rachel’s struggling form was borne within her room, 
and again, by rougher hands than before, was she tied 
upon her back in bed. 

Goucher now lit the wick in the large dark lantern he 
carried, and the four masked men passed stealthily forth 
into the hall-way. 

Ted, the bartender and “Jack, the Fork,” walked softly 
ahead, “Tom, the Frog,” and Goucher following, the latter 
showing the way with the dark lantern. 


208 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGET 


At the stair- way leading beneath the burglars paused, 
listening. 

All was quiet, and they cautiously stole down until they 
stood at the door of the room in which was the safe. 

Green burglars, like landsmen on a whaling voyage, are 
the most venturesome, and Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, 
the Fork,” again took the place of honor in advance at the 
door. 

Goucher and “Tom, the Frog,” remained aside upon the 
stair-way, and when Goucher perceived that the men were 
in right position, he shut the slide over the lantern’s eye, 
and all was dark. 

A ray of light streamed from the keyhole of the door, 
and it seemed probable that Moses or Sammy Muggins, or 
both of them, were within. 

Placing his ear to the keyhole, Ted, the bartender, heard 
the heavy breathing of a man in sound slumber. 

On learning this Goucher commanded a quiet wait. 

Half an hour passed, and nothing had occurred. 

Suddenly the voice of Moses Muggins within was heard 
to say, in a subdued tone : 

“ Sammy, ho ! Sammy ; vas you asleep ? Do you hear 
me? Yas you asleep and sound, I say?” 

It seemed that Moses had become satisfied that Sammy 
was in that condition, for, a moment later, the patter of 
his slippers was heard as he crossed the carpetless floor 
from his writing-desk toward the safe. 

The miser was going to feast his eyes upon his hoard, 
and assure himself that he was rich once again before 
retiring for the night. 

The click of the combination came plainly to the burglars 
without, as he turned the safe’s knob, and then the heavy 
door of the Jew’s treasure-house was heard to swing open. 

A moment later Goucher reached forward, and tapped 
lightly on the door. 

Instantly the safe door was swung to, and locked. 

Then the patter of the Jew’s slippers sounded as he 
again hastily crossed the floor. 

On the instant the ray at the keyhole vanished, and it 
was evident that the cautious miser had turned out his 
lamp. 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


209 


3> 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE BURGLARY CONTINUED. 

For a time all was black as midnight and quiet as the 
grave. 

Then Goucher leaned forward and again tapped lightly 
upon the door. 

“ Who vas dere ?” whispered Muggins through the key- 
hole. 

“Rachel,” returned “Jack, the Fork,” in imitation of 
Rachel’s voice. 

“ Vat you vant?” 

“A man has brought you someting.” 

“Vat man?” 

“ A strange man. ” 

“ Did you let de man in de house ?” 

“No. Vy should you ask such foolish ting?” 

“Vat he brought?” 

“ A quite heavy package. ” 

“ Yere is it?” 

“Here, I got it.” 

“Yell, take it vid you to your room.” 

“ I vould not have such rich ting vid me. I was afraid.” 

“Vat is it?” 

“ Diamonds and vatches. ” 

“ Yat did de man say?” 

“He vould see you to-morrow by de store.” 

“ Did you, sure, lock de door ?” 

“ Sure. ” 

“And nobody vas near you on de stair-vay?” 

“Yat makes you so foolish? Open de door, or I go right 
avay and throw de man’s package on de street. I like not 
such business, and have a fool made of it. ” 

“ Yait a minute.” 

Softly Muggins turned the key in the lock, slipped back 
the bolt, opened the door several inches, passed his hand 
through the crack, and said, harshly : 

“ Quick ! Rachel, give me de package !” 

The bartender’s left hand clutched the extended arm on 
the instant in a grip of iron, while his right shot swiftly 
through the aperture and clutched Muggins’ throat. 

“Great Heaven, Sammy! Robbers! Tiefs!” cried the 


210 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEK. 


terrified man ere the burglar’s clutch had shut off his 
wind. 

The next instant Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the 
Fork,” had pushed their way into the room and gagged the 
trembling u fence. ” 

A pause of a moment ensued, but as Sammy Muggins’ 
heavy breathing showed that he still soundly slumbered, 
Goucher opened the eye of his dark lantern and threw it 
within the room. 

At a signal from Goucher, Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, 
the Fork,” hurried the terrified Jew toward the huge iron 
safe. 

Placing him upon his knees before it, they pressed the 
muzzles of their revolvers against his temples, while Ted, 
the bartender, in an assumed voice, bade him open the 
safe, or he would blow out his brains. 

Muggins made an effort as if to grasp the knob of the 
safe’s door, then, either fainting or feigning to do so, fell 
to one side limp and insensible. 

The burglars then searched his pockets. 

In a vest-pocket they found the key used in the combina- 
tion. 

“ Tom, the Frog, ” and Goucher examined it closely. 

Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the Fork,” lifted Mug- 
gins’ form, and, placing it upon the vacant bed near by, 
stood watch for the insensible man’s revival. 

Fearing that his breath was stopped by the gag, they 
loosed it, and finally removed it entirely. 

Goucher placed the dark lantern on the floor with its 
glare turned upon the door of the safe. 

“Tom, the Frog,” knelt beside Goucher, and the two 
strove patiently for a full half hour to work the combina- 
tion. 

The men were all deeply interested in the work, and 
their eyes eagerly watched the efforts upon the safe’s 
lock. 

Suddenly sounded a voice in the room : 

“Vould you do such ting to poor old Moses vat vas so 
long your good friend, Mr. Goucher ?” 

The burglars started in surprise. 

A pistol shot would not have startled their nerves more. 

“ Tom, the Frog, ” and Goucher bounded to their feet. 

Goucher caught at the dark lantern, and threw its light 
whence the voice came. 

Moses Muggins, pale, and trembling in terror, sat upright 
in the bed, glaring toward him. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


211 


Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the Fork,” were so 
astonished that they had not moved to replace the gag. 

Goucher flew into a passion. 

Giving vent to a volley of curses, he called the watchers 
at the bedside “wooden men,” and bade them “ throttle” 
the “bloke,” and tie him down tight. 

“But I vould speak vid you, Mr. Goucher. You shall 
have an arrangement, a good arrangement !” cried Mug- 
gins, endeavoring to spring from the bed. 

“ You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to. We’re officers,” 
said Goucher. 

Muggins could make no reply, for, stung to the quick by 
Goucher’ s curses, Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the 
Fork,” had seized him like two tigers pouncing upon their 
prey. 

Venting their fury upon the helpless cause of Goucher’s 
wrath, they tied the gag in the unfortunate Jew’s mouth so 
tightly that it was a wonder it did not break the man’s 
jaw. 

The band about their victim’s eyes and head they tight- 
ened with all their strength, and while he moaned in 
torture they lashed his limbs with a vigor that almost 
broke his old bones. 

“Lively now, boys,” said Goucher, when they had ended 
their fiendish work. “Tom can’t work the combination, 
and if we fool much longer with it it will be daylight when 
we get done. We must burst her !” 

As he spoke he unbuttoned his overcoat, and produced a 
brace, a pair of “jimmies,” a handful of brace points, a can 
of powder, an exhaust pump, and other implements of the 
trade. 

Placing these upon the floor near the safe, he turned in 
fury toward the bed on which Moses Muggins lay moaning 
piteously. 

“Is there no way of gaggin’ that bloke’s nose?” he cried. 
“Stand by Tom now, the two of you.” 

This command was addressed to Ted, the bartender, and 
“Jack, the Fork,” and they obediently approached the safe, 
and awaited “Tom, the Frog’s” orders. 

He carefully selected a brace point suitable for the pur- 
pose, and adjusting it in the brace, gave the tool’s handle 
into the bartender’s hand, and, guiding the steel bit against 
the crevice about the safe’s door, bade him bore away. 

Ted, the bartender, worked with a will, and “Tom, the 
Frog,” and “Jack, theJFork,” eagerly watched the opera- 
tion. 


212 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


Goucher had, meanwhile, approached the bed on which 
Moses Muggins lay moaning in torture. 

The piteous groans that issued from the sufferer’s nostrils 
excited no sympathy in Goucher’ s breast. 

Every moan but added to his fury. 

Muggins had recognized him by his size. 

If the Jew lived he was in his power. 

Rather than wear a convict’s stripes again he would 
hang. 

So thought Goucher as the moans of the tortured man 
roused him to desperation. 

Like the reformed drunkard who risks takine one drink 
and finds himself again rolling in the gutter, Goucher 
found that the light “job” he had anticipated had ingulfed 
him again in the most desperates straits of the burglar’s 
craft. 

The burglar’s rule, that “boodle without safety is rot,” 
again became the law of his brain. 

He had no choice — he must be safe. 

Grasping a surplus end of the supple rope which hung 
from a knob at the wrists of the moaning victim, he 
passed it swiftly about Muggins’ neck, and, forming a 
noose, drew it tight with all his strength, and the sufferer 
ceased to moan. 

When Goucher had so secured the noose on Muggins’ 
neck that it could not slip, he glanced hastily toward the 
men at work on the safe - to see if they had noticed his 
action. 

“Tom, the Frog,” directed the dark lantern’s light upon 
the safe’s door, while Ted, the bartender, strained might 
and main to make the cut through ifcs chilled iron wall. 

The eyes of the three burglars flashed through the black 
masks in the lantern’s rays, as they eagerly watched the 
progress of the bore, presenting a weird sight. 

They had evidently not noticed the sudden cessation of 
Moses Muggins’ moans, nor the means Goucher had used 
to end them. 

Casting a look upon the quivering frame of the strangling 
man, in the shadow, upon the bed, Goucher softly ap- 
proached the workers, and stood at the rear of “Tom, the 
Frog. ” 

He glanced from time to time from his watch of the 
work toward the bed on which Sammy Muggins still 
soundly slept. 

Suddenly the steel bit “spurted ’’without opposition a 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


213 


full inch under Ted, the bartender’s pressure, and “ Tom, 
the Frog,” declared the bore made. 

Speedily adjusting a fresh bit, he gave the handle of the 
brace into Jack, the Fork’s,” hands, and directed him to 
make a second cut in the door’s lower left corner. 

For five minutes “Jack, the Fork,” worked industriously 
at making the cut. 

Then he gave up, completely fagged out. 

Used, as Ted, the bartender, had been, to heavy manual 
labor, he was too tired to take hold, and Goucher was 
forced to lend a hand to complete the bore. 

An hour’s labor, and the second cut was made. 

A moment’s breathing spell ensued, and then “Tom, the. 
Frog,” inserted a steel tool, called a “feeder,” into the 
upper hole. 

The u feeder” was, in shape, something like a clay pipe. 
Like a pipe, also, it possessed a cavity which ran from its 
bowl through the stem. 

The burglar then inserted a steel tube into the lower 
hole, and this he connected by other tubes, which screwed 
togteher in straight pieces, and elbows, like a gas-pipe, 
with the exhaust pump on the floor. 

The crevices about the door, and the inserted tubes, were 
then puttied shut, so as to entirely exclude the passage of 
air. 

“Tom, the Frog,” then kept the bowl of the “feeder” 
poured full of powder, while Ted, the bartender, worked 
the exhaust pump on the floor. 

As the air within was exhausted from beneath the 
powder was sucked in from the “feeder.” 

When “ Tom, the Frog’s” practiced eye told him that a 
sufficient quantity had thus been forced within the safe, 
the tubes were withdrawn, and the upper hole puttied 
shut. 

Bundles of old clothing were then brought from the rear 
of the room and piled in front of the safe door and about 
the safe to deaden the sound of the explosion. 

Goucher then saturated a handkerchief with chloroform, 
and held it to Sammy Muggins’ nose. 

A fuse was then inserted in the lower hole of the safe’s 
door, and lit. 

The burglars retired hastily to the stair- way without. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


214 


CHAPTER LIII. 

THE BURGLARY CONCLUDED. 

A moment later there was a dull, heavy explosion, which 
shook the house. 

The burglars hastily re-entered the room. 

It was filled with smoke, and the odor of burned powder. 

The dark lantern’s rays were first directed toward 
Sammy Muggins on the bed, and next upon the safe. 

Sammy Muggins started like one in a nightmare when 
the explosion took place. 

His eyes half opened, and his heavy breathing ceased. 

He rolled over on his side, averting his face from toward 
the safe. 

Gradually the heavy breathing, indicating deep slumber, 
returned, and it became evident that Sammy had not been 
awakened. 

The powder had done its work well. 

The lower hinge and the locks of the safe had been burst 
asunder, and the massive door hung by its twisted upper 
hinge, with its one corner resting upon the old clothing on 
the floor. 

It was the work of a moment to lift aside the broken 
door. 

A thin, badly warped plate door which intervened was 
speedily removed, and a rich prize greeted the burglars’ 
eyes, and made them glisten through the black masks on 
their faces. 

They beheld a tier of broad open drawers filled to over 
flowing with watches, gold coins, jewelry, diamonds, and 
gems. 

Some articles were inclosed in paper, others in leather 
cases, and the confused mass, sparkling under the lan- 
tern’s rays, bade fair to prove a rich haul. 

The closed drawers of the safe were found to contain half 
a bushel of tightly packed bonds and bills, many being of 
large denomination. 

“What d’ye say now, Jack Weak-knees?” demanded 
Goucher, with a wink and chuckle, as he proceeded to set 
forth the drawers upon the floor. 

“Do you see any visible ‘swag?’” he continued. “As 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


215 


I’ve got an eye in my head, a shoe on my foot, and a mask 
on my face, there’s here between two and three hundred 
thousand worth. And, what’s more, I can’t think these 
bonds are registered. The miserly old ‘bloke’ of a ‘fence’ 
didn’t dare risk doin’ it. So it’s clear ‘swag’ the whole of 
it. According to bargain, the half’s mine, and the rest’s 
divided. Out with your bags and needles, boys, and sew 
that hard stuff into three flat pads, so’s you can carry 
them inside your overcoats, and lose nothing. I’ll stow 
away the bills and bonds myself. 

“Work spry now,” added the king of the “gang,” “and 
when the ‘boodle’s’ hid safe away in the old den we’ll take 
a stiff horn of sour-mash to the cornin’ of merry Christmas 
and happy New Year, whether Jonathan Greenhorn sells 
his farm in Kentucky, and comes on to buy ‘ sawdust’ or 
not. ” 

The watches, coins, and jewelry were speedily sewed in 
ridges in the folds of the gummy sacks which the three 
burglars carried, while Goucher succeeded in stowing away 
the bonds and money in various lodgments about his 
person. 

The three “ pads” when finished were two feet long, a 
foot wide, four inches in thickness, and quite heavy. 

It was necessary that they should be securely tied to the 
men before they donned their overcoats, and buttoned 
them about them. 

Several lengths of supple cord rope were needed, and 
Goucher turned toward the bed on which Moses Muggins 
had been bound. 

Placing his hand upon the victim’s face, he felt that it 
was cold, and he knew that Muggins was dead. 

With a swift movement he unloosened the noose from 
the dead man’s neck, and cast the rope aside as before. 

“Fetch that ‘glim’ here,” he exclaimed in feigned aston- 
ishment. “I’m a fearin’ the old ‘bloke’ has ‘croaked.’ ” 

“Dead !” echoed the three burglars, in a chorus, and they 
advanced excitedly toward the bed. 

Goucher threw the lantern’s rays on the dead man’s face. 

Ted, the bartender, hastened to loose the band from the 
eyes of the corpse, and the gag from the mouth. 

“He’s as stiff as a frozen eel!” he said, as his hand 
touched the cold features of the murdered man. 

When the band and gag had been removed the sight 
caused the four burglars to start back with a shudder. 

Goucher appeared more horrified than the others. 


216 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


His plan was to leave the blame of Muggins’ death rest 
evenly upon all. 

As it was, Ted, the bartender, and “Jack, the Fork,” 
seemed directly instrumental in its cause. 

“You bound him too tightly, boys,” said Goucher, 
shaking his head. 

“It’s bad — bad !” muttered Ted, the bartender. 

“Awful!” ejaculated “Jack, the Fork,” trembling in 
terror. 

“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Goucher. “And as we 
need the rope that’s about him, set to and take it off. And 
then if we can find a bit of rope in the house, we’ll trice 
him up by the neck, so’s nobody can swear but that he 
committed suicide on finding he had been robbed. ” 

“Here it is,” quoth “Tom, the Frog,” tossing a clothes- 
line, which he had found near the bed on which Sammy 
Muggins still soundly slept, upon the corpse. 

Goucher seized the rope and forming a noose slipped it 
about the dead man’s neck ere the three men had per- 
ceived the impress of the cord which he had placed there. 

Ted, the bartender, speedily removed the supple hempen 
cord from the dead man’s limbs, and cutting it into suita- 
ble lengths the three men had soon tied upon their breasts 
the “ pads” containing the heavy portion of the “ boodle. ” 

When they had buttoned their overcoats about them no 
one would have noticed that they carried such a bulk of 
matter upon their persons. 

Goucher now glanced about the room, and his eyes rested 
upon the transom over the door leading to the stair- way. 

Placing a chair in the door- way and standing thereon, 
he pushed open the transom glass, and bade Ted, the bar- 
tender, and “Jack, the Fork,” carry the corpse thither. 

This done, an end of the clothes-line was tied about the 
transom beam in such a way that the body hung by the 
neck in the door-way, its hideous and distorted features 
looking directly within the room. 

Stepping from the chair, Goucher turned it over on its 
side, so that it might appear that the suicide had kicked 
it from beneath him in consummating his act of self- 
destruction. 

Then flashing the lantern’s rays in a general survey 
upon the floor, strewn with old clothes and the tools which 
he had determined to leave behind, and upon Sammy Mug- 
gins’ sleeping form, he elbowed his way beween the dang- 
ling body and the door-frame, and ascended the stair-way, 
followed by his underlings, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGES. 217 

In the hall-way above the burglars removed their masks, 
and blew out the light in the dark lantern. 

It was now three in the morning, and the rain fell in 
torrents upon the street. 

There are roundabout routes known to thieves in which, 
upon such a night in New York, no officer will be met or 
seen. 

One of these routes the four men took from the house, 
when they had convinced themselves that no “ peeler” 
lurked in the street without. 

An hour later they were overhauling the pile of “ boodle” 
heaped before them on the table in the sawdust den. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

SAMMY MUGGINS AWAKES. 

It was broad daylight when Sammy Muggins awoke. 
When he did so it was with a grunt or groan of sorrow 
that day had summoned him from rest. 

For years he had been little more than Moses’ slave, 
earning a bare living in dancing attendance upon his more 
fortunate brother’s whims from early dawn until he was 
permitted to retire for the night. 

It was little wonder that he relished slumber, for that 
had been about his only comfort. 

Like his niece, Rachel, he had despised the miserly 
methods of his rich brother, and, like her, though forced to 
abet Moses’ “crooked” work, his heart was not in it. True, 
he had hope of future riches, as all of his race have, but 
his ideas ran toward gaining the coveted treasure by 
“shtock” sales. 

It had been Moses’ custom to call Sammy at daylight, 
when he arose, and set him to work at making the fires, 
and other chores. 

On this morning, when Sammy awoke, he did not for a 
time open his eyes, but feeling that he had slept long and 
well, lay momentarily expecting to hear Moses’ call. 

At length, believing that he had wrongly estimated the 
hour, he opened his eyes, hoping to assure himself that it 
was still night. 

Perceiving that it was broad day, he started up on his 
cot in astonishment. 

As he did so he beheld Moses’ body dangling in the door- 

way. 


218 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


A shiver of terror ran through his nerves, and bracing 
his trembling limbs upon the bed, he remained for a minute 
speechless, and glaring wildly at the horrible apparition. 

Then, as if he thought himself asleep and dreaming a 
terrible dream, he averted his face and rubbed his hands 
roughly over his temples and eyes to convince himself that 
he was awake. 

But when he looked again the corpse still met his gaze, 
its eyes glaring vacantly forth as if they would burst from 
their sockets, the mouth wide open, the tongue swollen and 
extended — the entire aspect hideous in the extreme. 

With a cry of horror, Sammy sprang from the bed. 

Wringing his hands in agony, he advanced several steps 
toward the body. 

A moment he stood glaring at it in mute terror. Then 
dropping upon his knees, and bending forward, he beat 
his forehead upon the floor, in the deep woe of his soul, 
and cried, aloud : 

u Oh, Heaven, my brother Moses ! my brother Moses !” 

Then, springing to his feet, he ran to and fro in the 
room, repeating the cry, and weeping like a child. 

As he did so his foot tripped upon the exhaust pump left* 
by the burglars, and he pitched headlong upon the floor. 

As he arose to his knees the frenzied man for the first 
time perceived the burglars’ tools scattered amid the piles 
of clothing on the floor, and the gaping and despoiled safe. 

“ Murder ! tiefs ! robbers ! burglars !” he shrieked, bound- 
ing to his feet. 

“ Poor, poor brother Moses !” he cried, as his eyes again 
fell upon his brother’s form. 

“I see it all, Moses — you vas murdered! — murdered, 
brother Moses murdered !” 

Approaching the body he caught the cold hand of the 
dead man in his, and covered it with kisses. 

Then he yelled wildly for Rachel, and receiving no 
answer, hastened above in his night raiment to arouse 
her. Reaching the door of her room he rapped loudly 
thereon, crying out as he did so : 

“ Rachel ! Rachel ! Come quick, Rachel ! Moses vas 
murdered ! Your f adder vas murdered !” 

Repeating his summons louder and louder, a dozen times 
without response, the fear that Rachel also might be dead 
possessed his brain. 

Clutching his hair wildly with his hands, he ran to and 
fro the length of the hall- way, weeping and yelling like a 
maniac. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


219 


Suddenly he darted toward the door, grasped and turned 
the door knob. 

The door swung open, and he beheld Eachel bound upon 
the bed. 

“ Oh, Rachel ! Rachel ! Moses ! Rachel !” cried the terri- 
fied man as he advanced to the bedside. 

Rachel had striven bravely to free herself from her 
bonds during the long hours of the night. 

By dint of great effort she had succeeded in freeing her 
right hand. 

Despite her patient endeavors, she could accomplish no 
more, and at length utterly exhausted, remained quietly 
awaiting the relief which she felt morning would bring. 

When she beheld Sammy approaching she pointed with 
her right hand, as well as she could, toward the gag in her 
mouth, and mumbled through her nose in her endeavor to 
bid him take it off. 

Sammy’s brain was so nearly crazed that, for a time, he 
either could not or would not understand her, but con- 
tinued to weep and yell forth his lamentations 

Rachel continued her gestures, and repeated her mum- 
bled command so vigorously that at length the noises 
forced from her nostrils sounded as if she were in imminent 
danger of strangling. 

This seemed to bring Sammy to his senses, and he began 
to fumble about the gag. 

His efforts were not guided by any intelligence, however, 
and for a time the knot that held the gag appeared in less 
danger of being undone than Rachel’s eyes did of being 
prodded out by Sammy’s trembling and clumsy fingers. 

All the while he kept up his lamentations for his dead 
brother. 

And all the while his tears fell like rain upon Rachel’s 
face. 

Rachel’s visage became as red as fire, and her eyes 
flashed wickedly upon the heart-broken man at such mo- 
ments as she dared open them. 

At length Sammy managed not to untie the knot at the 
back of Rachel’s neck, but to force the gag out of her 
mouth over her chin. 

The operation almost wrenched the unfortunate young 
woman’s jaw from its sockets, and caused her intense 
pain. 

So soon as she found her tongue free she only waited to 
draw a long breath, and then burst forth, angrily : 

“ You wrinkled up, vizard-faced, old Jew, you I” she ex- 


220 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


claimed. “Oh, if I vas a man, you miserable, old rat, 
you ! I’d fire you out by de street so quick I get my hands 
on you ! Bah, vid you — you — you — ” 

And, indelicate though it may seem to recount it, Rachel 
spat directly in Sammy’s face. 

Had he set off an unsuspected bomb-shell beneath his 
feet poor Sammy could not have been more astonished than 
he was at the result of freeing Rachel’s tongue. 

His cries suddenly ceased, and his tears dried in the 
corners of his staring eyes. 

“ Vy, Rachel,” he said, meekly, “I come to tell you dot 
poor Moses — your fadder, Rachel — vas hung up down de 
stairs by de tiefs !” 

“I vouldn’t care he vas fired out from a cannon !” cried 
Rachel. 

“ Vy, Rachel, vot you say?” muttered Sammy, the breath 
almost departing from his body in his astonishment. 

“I say,” shrieked Rachel, “you could see I vas tied down 
by dis bed. And I vant you to go by dat cupboard, take 
de butcher-knife, and cut me quick loose, or I vould cut 
your throat vid it.” 

Sammy shambled mechanically toward the cupboard, 
and secured the knife. 

“Now mind your eye you don’t cut nothing but do 
ropes, ” instructed Rachel, in a milder tone. “ Put de knife 
inside, and pull it out against de rope toward you.” 

Sammy began to use the knife carefully, as Rachel 
directed. 

Rachel’s sudden outburst of indignation had been as 
unusual in its way as the more dreadful surprise that had 
greeted the distracted brother of Moses below. 

To a degree it had served to swing back his senses to a 
proper equilibrium. 

At all events, Sammy made no mistake in the use of the 
knife. 

A half dozen cautious severings of the rope, and Rachel’s 
limbs were freed. 

Swinging herself from the bed, she assumed a sitting 
posture upon its edge. 

“ Oh, Rachel ! Rachel !” began Sammy, as the great grief 
again pressed upon his brain, and his tears burst forth 
afresh, “did you know it — could you believe it? Your poor 
old fadder, Moses, vas dead. ” 

“Yes, and I vas near dead, too,” moaned Rachel, rubbing 
her hands together and pressing her limbs. “I vas dead 
asleep all over.” 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


221 


Rachel continued to rub her benumbed limbs, and at 
length began to cry bitterly in her misery. 

Sammy dropped back upon a chair, and covering his face 
with his hands, swayed to and fro, weeping and uttering 
lamentations coupled wtih his brother’s name. 

Presently Rachel tottered toward the stove, in which the 
fire had long since gone out. 

Lifting the coffee pot from it, she placed the spout there- 
of to her lips and drank deeply of the cold, invigorating 
liquid within. 

Replacing the utensil, she turned toward Sammy and 
said : 

“Vat is dat you say of my gadder, Uncle Sammy? — he 
vas tied down ?” 

“No, I said not he vas tied down, Rachel,” moaned 
Sammy. “ He vas hung up ! Poor Moses vas dead — dead !” 

“I vould not believe such nonsense. You vas crazy, 
Uncle Sammy,” quoth Rachel. 

As she spoke she limped from the room and hastened 
along the hall-way to the stair way at its rear. 

Sammy staggered to his feet and followed her, moaning 
piteously. 

Ere he had reached the hall-way Rachel had begun to 
descend the stair- way. 

Suddenly a shrill, heart-rending shriek rang throughout 
the building. 

Rachel had beheld the form of her father dangling dead 
in the door- way, and, plunging forward in a swoon, had 
fallen in a mass at the bottom of the stair-way. 

Thoroughly alarmed by the terrible cry, and rendered 
delirious at the remembrance of the horrible spectacle be- 
neath, Sammy Muggins began to run swiftly back and 
forth in the hall-way, and yell at the top of his voice. 

A number of the neighbors and passers-by soon congre- 
gated at the door without. 

A policeman, attracted by the crowd, elbowed his way to 
the door, and opened it. 

“What is the matter there?” he demanded, gruffly, of 
Sammy, as he peered within the hall-way, and beheld the 
frenzied man flying about in his night-clothes and yelling 
like a madman. 

Sammy continued his cries, and pointed down the stair- 
way. 

The officer entered and hastened in the direction indi- 
cated. 

A moment later he emerged with pallid features among 


222 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


the excited crowd, and rang his club loudly upon the stone 
door-step for assistance. 

A second officer soon came running to the scene of the 
trouble. 

“ Hurry up and report to the sergeant at the desk. ” whis- 
pered the first officer, excitedly, in his comrade’s ear, 
“that there’s foul work been goin’ on in this house last 
night. A burglary has been committed, and there’s a man 
stark dead below.” 

The officer, as bidden, hastened away, while the first 
policeman kept guard on the door, driving back the grow- 
ing crowd, who whispered all sorts of stories into each 
other’s ears, and hearkened eagerly to the cries of the de- 
mented man within the hall-way. 

Soon after a squad of officers, headed by the captain of 
the precinct and accompanied by the ward detective, 
arrived. 

Perceiving that Moses Muggins was dead they permitted 
his body to remain as it was, to be viewed by the coroner. 

The swooning daughter of the dead man was tenderly 
borne to her bed. 

Sammy Muggins was 'forced to don his clothes with the 
assistance of the officers. 

For a time, in spite of their efforts to calm him, he con- 
tinued to cry forth at the highest pitch his voice could 
command. 

At length he sank back, completely worn out, and un- 
able to utter more than a low, dismal moan. 

Meanwhile a physician had beqji sent for, and the captain 
and his assistants busied themselves overhauling the scene 
of the crime, and framing their ideas as to the method of 
the burglary, and their theories as to the identity of the 
burglars who had committed it. 


CHAPTER LV. 

BRIDGER’S MURDER PLANNED. 

On the morning subsequent to the discovery of the bur- 
glary by the police, Ted, the bartender, “Tom, the Frog,” 
and Goucher entered the “ sawdust den” at daylight. 

After stirring up the drooping fire they dropped into 
chairs at the table. 

A few minutes later “Jack, the Fork,” entered, and 
tossed four of the morning papers thereon. 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


223 


Goucher selected the paper he wished, “Tom, the Frog,” 
made a second selection, and Ted, the bartender, and 
“Jack, the Fork,” each grasped one of the remaining 
journals. 

For a time they shifted the papers about impatiently, but 
at length, finding what they had looked for, spread them 
on the table, and, bending over them, became deeply ab- 
sorbed in the perusal. 

The articles that claimed their attention, as may be 
readily surmised, related to the Muggins’ burglary. 

Each of the papers contained a detailed statement of the 
affair, and when Goucher had ended reading the version 
given in the paper he held he passed it toward ‘ ‘ Tom, the 
Frog,” and, without further ceremony, took “Tom, the 
Frog’s” paper and began to peruse the account given in it. 

Thus the “ King of the Ken” passed abruptly from one 
paper to the other, until he had read the statement given 
in each. 

Meanwhile strict silence had reigned, and not a word had 
been spoken. 

When Goucher had finished reading the version of the 
fourth paper he suddenly sprang from his chair, shoved 
his hands into his trousers pockets, and began to pace to 
and fro excitedly. 

The three men quietly read on and paid no attention to 
him. 

They knew that when he had revolved the cause of worry 
in his mind, and settled on his plan of dealing with the 
trouble, he would let them know of it. 

Several minutes later Goucher abruptly paused in his 
walk, and, stamping his foot upon the floor, roared out : 

“ Curse him ! curse him ! curse him !” 

“Who? Old Sammy?” said “Tom, the Frog.” 

“No, not old Sammy,” snapped Goucher, gruffly. 

“Well, so far as I see,” commented “Tom, the Frog,” 
“ everything looks right, and no cause appears for getting 
the dyspepsia over the thing. Sammy and Rachel have 
testified that two tall men, representing themselves as de- 
tectives, had entered the house some nights previous to the 
burglary, and had killed the dog. They don’t say what the 
men’s business was, and consequently they’re looking for 
the “ trippers” that took you to the country, thinking them 
the thieves.” 

“And suppose they’d find them ‘ trippers, ’ what then ?” 
demanded Goucher. 

“They’d languish in the ‘cooler’ and take their trial.” 


224 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“ They would, eh ? They would not, then. But in twenty- 
four hours after they found them we’d be in the 4 cooler’ 
ourselves. ” 

“ How do you make that out ?” 

‘ ‘ I make it out that Bridger was sittin’ in the same cab 
a-listenin’ when the ‘gam’ told me of the signal, the dog’s 
death, and the ‘boodle’ in the Muggins’ safe; and, if they 
hunt Bridger up, he’ll drop to it in a twink that we are the 
‘ jiggers’ that did the job.” 

“Well, why didn’t you think of that before?” ventured 
“Jack, the Fork.” 

“Why didn’t you and Ted think of tyin’ Muggins a little 
more sensible ? Don’t you notice that the coroner’s dropped 
to the fact that the old ‘bloke’ was tied down before he was 
hung up ? I tell you them welts your rope left on him 
gives things a bad look, and go to prove to all creation, 
from babies up, that the Jew was murdered.” 

“That’s got nothing to do with Bridger,” quoth “Jack, 
the Fork. ” 

“ No, perhaps not. But it goes to show that the one thing 
was a slip of the memory on my part, and the other was a 
slip of judgment on yours. And betwixt the two slips 
matters looks risky for us, I warn you all. ” 

“Bah!” ejaculated “Tom, the Frog.” “I don’t weaken 
for a cent. Suspectin’ and provin’ are two different things. 
Let’s wait till we hear that we’re suspected before we 
‘beef.’ ” 

“Make no mistake, I’m neither weakenin’ nor beefin, 
Tom, my boy,” said Goucher. “ But my clothes would fit 
me better if Bridger had managed to’ve dropped through 
the trap instead of you, when we tried to put him there. ” 

“Well, what are you goin’ to do about it?” 

“What am I goin’ to do about it, eh? Why, I’m goin’ to 
put him there. Nor I’ll never feel easy till he’s put to bed 
with a shovel ten feet below the sewer. ” 


CHAPTER LVI. 

BRIDGER TRAPPED. 

At dusk on the evening subsequent to Goucher’ s avowed 
determination to murder Bridger the party arrived in New 
York from Alton, and repaired to the St. Nicholas Hotel. 
Thoroughly absorbed with their own affairs, Bridger or 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 225 

the Scotch detective had not found time to read the papers, 
and were not informed of the Muggins’ burglary. 

That night the two detectives visited Bridger’ s Bond 
street rooms, and after looking over the mail that awaited 
them, retired for the night. 

The most important letter which Bridger received was 
one from Washington, informing him that his work on the 
smuggling case was satisfactory, and ordering him to hold 
himself ready to proceed at once to Kentucky to look after 
some persistent moonshiners, who were there doing a 
wholesale business in illicit whisky. 

Early on the following morning the two sleuth-hounds 
returned to the hotel for breakfast. 

At breakfast Dr. Macy informed them that he had re- 
ceived one thousand dollars, which had been forwarded to 
the hotel from the Bower Detective Agency. 

After breakfast Bridger set forth alone to visit Detective 
Bower, and notify him that Dr. Macy had received the 
amount forwarded. 

The Scotch detective would not quit the company of his 
fair fiancee at the time, but made an appointment to meet 
Bridger at the hotel at one P. M. on business. 

Bridger had barely progressed two blocks on Broadway 
when he heard a voice close at his ear call out : 

“Ho, there, Bridger! Bridger, I say!” 

And turning about Bridger found himself confronted by 
Goucher. 

“I just happened to be in the saloon on the corner,” said 
the “King of the Ken,” extending his hand, “andseein’ 
you pass by I thought I’d ask you how the murder case 
turned out at Alton, and apologize for leaving that town so 
suddenly. The fact is, I was afraid that I might be arrested 
if I stopped longer.” 

u As matters turned,” quoth Bridger, “your leaving made 
no difference whatever. The Englishman drugged his ac- 
complice to death that same night, and afterward cut his 
own throat, thus ending the case. ” 

“ The duse you say ! But I suppose your promise holds 
good just the same, and you will not make a move against 
me for the brush we had in the house ?” 

‘ ‘What I promise, I keep, ” returned Bridger. u I have no 
interest at present in the local affairs of New York city. 
But I would advise you not to use that trap any more, 
and — ” 

“I never used it before, and never will again,” inter- 
rupted Goucher. 


226 


DETECTIVE BOB BKIDGER. 


“And drop ‘crooked’ work,” added Bridger, “or New 
York detectives will pull you in soon enough on their own 
hook. ” 

“ Truth, every word of it, truth, Bridger, and I take your 
plan from this hour. I wish to Heaven I could repay your 
forbearance and kindness in some way. Before God, it 
would do my soul good if I could do so. ” 

“ That is not necessary. ” 

“By the way, Bridger, I’ll tell you what I can do for 
you. I’m going to make a clean breast now. You know in 
the sawdust ‘ racket’ we send out circulars to people we 
think might bite all over the country ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, when we get an answer from a man who owns a 
store, a hotel, or a farm, we frequently send him some 
genuine new bills, and ask him to shove them. He finds, 
of course, that they go all right, and the first thing he does 
is to mortgage his property, and come on to invest in the 
queer, thinkin’ that his everlastin’ fortune is made.” 

“ I understand the racket. ” 

“ But you never worked it, and, as I was goin’ to say, 
before these fellows come on, they sometimes become very 
communicative in their letters. They seem to want to 
make us understand that they are genuine ‘ crooks’ them- 
selves, and tell us of the various sharping ‘ rackets’ goin’ 
on in their neighborhood. And I have just been thinkin’ 
now, as I’m givin’ over the business, that I’ve got a pack- 
age of letters from a fellow in Kentucky, who’s engaged in 
the moonshiner line, that give facts which might interest 
you as an officer of the government. ” 

Bridger, as we have seen, was at the time expecting to be 
sent to Kentucky to look into the affairs of a band of 
‘crooked’ whisky men there, and the letters of the sup- 
posed moonshiners did interest him. 

“ What does the fellow say in his letters ?” he asked. 

“ He says that he is the secretary of a gang who have 
half a dozen distilleries runnin’ in the mountains, and that 
the whisky is loaded at night on a boat in the river, and is 
shipped as tar, in tar daubed barrels at Cincinnati. ” 

“What is the man’s name and address?” 

“Let me see — John — John — hang it all, why can’t I think 
of it. But it’s only a short walk across town to my place. 
Step over along, and I’ll give the letters and welcome if 
they might be of service to you. ” 

Goucher’s manner seemed sincere, and, being ignorant of 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 227 

the Muggins’ burglary, Bridger could not perceive any 
motive for deception on his part. 

He did not, however, wholly trust the man, but being 
well armed, and having no fear of Goucher or his gang 
within or without their den, he complied. 

On reaching the “ den” Goucher entered at the side door, 
and Bridger followed. 

4 4 My papers are in my office at the rear of the bar-room,” 
said the “King of the E^en,” as he led on toward the rear 
end of the dark hall-way. 

When he had advanced to within a few feet of a door 
which opened to the right at the end of the hall-way he 
suddenly paused, and permitted Bridger to approach his 
side. 

“Now, Bridger,” he said, “you can go in with me, or 
wait here until I get the package, as you please. ” 

At that moment Bridger heard a slight creak in the floor 
at his rear, and became convinced that a man in his stock- 
ing feet was creeping up stealthily behind him. 

He attempted to pull forth his revolver, but before he 
could even glance about he received a heavy blow on the 
left side of the head. 

On the instant Goucher threw his full weight forward, 
and pushed the detective violently backward. 

As his body came in contact with the board partition at 
his rear the boards parted inward, and Bridger plunged 
helplessly backward into the dark depths of the trap he 
had once before so narrowly escaped. 


CHAPTER LVII. 

THE RED SLEUTH-HOUND ON THE WALL. 

Bridger plunged a distance of fifteen feet into the dark 
depths of the trap, and struck the moist, loose earth at its 
bottom squarely upon his back. 

He was stunned, but not rendered insensible, by the fall. 

The wound on the side of his head stung him a little, but 
otherwise the position in which his body fell seemed so 
comfortable that nature’s impulse bade him lay still for a 
time and recover his faculties. 

Pulling forth his pistols, the sleuth-hound remained idly 
lying as he had fallen, awaiting developments, and ready 
and eager to “cut loose on anything that might show 
itself.” 


228 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


While his body was yet in the air the panel door of the 
trap had been sprung shut, and all about him was impene- 
trable blackness. 

Not a ray of light from any source penetrated the thick 
darkness that surrounded him. 

The air was chilly, foul, and damp. 

An odor of decaying blood, such as one meets in the 
vicinity of a slaughter-house, assailed his nostrils. 

The squeaking of numberless rats sounded in his ears 
from the dark recesses about. 

The plashing and rumbling of sewage in the sewer to the 
left he plainly heard. 

A distant hum of voices, and sound of clicking glasses, 
came from the bar-room above. 

There was no use to shout for aid, for that would only 
bring the “gang” upon him before he was prepared to offer 
them proper resistance. 

He dared not strike a match, for that had disclosed his 
whereabouts, and a bullet from some interstice in the wall 
might end all. 

Something, however, had to be done, for Bridger had no 
notion of “saying die until he was dead.” 

Staggering to his feet, the sleuth-hound began a cautious 
investigation of his surroundings. 

He could only do so by his sense of touch. 

He found that he was inclosed in an oblong square five 
feet wide, some thirty feet long, and bordered on all sides 
by stone walls. 

Half way in either of the long side walls was a narrow 
door of heavy wood, without lock or keyhole and firmly 
barred without. 

At regular intervals of two feet in the wall, at the rear 
side, were interstices between the stones. 

These holes were some two inches wide, and beginning at 
a point two feet from the earth, extended upward a dis- 
tance of three or more feet. 

They were sheeted with iron, and appeared to widen as 
they extended backward. 

The noise of the rats, as they ran squeaking about, 
showed that back of the rear wall was a broad cellar- way. 

Doubtless in this cellar-way some of the “gang” then 
lurked, or would soon approach to dispatch the trapped 
sleuth-hound. 

Bridger determined to get out of the reach of these holes 
in the wall if possible. 

Did he remain on the earth at the trap’s bottom that 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGER. 


229 


would be impossible, for they commanded every inch of its 
space. 

He must then endeavor to get above them. 

Feeling his way along the rear wall to the corner opposite 
the panel door through which he had plunged, he tried to 
climb the wall. 

The stones composing it were large and rough, frequently 
protruding far enough to afford a foothold. 

The mortar between them was softened by the damp air, 
and he found little difficulty in cutting it with his pocket 
knife. 

Availing himself of the projecting stones, and cutting 
holes in the mortar, the sleuth-hound succeeded, after 
some hard work, in ascending ten feet from the floor with 
his boots on. 

Finding he could climb the wall above the holes, he 
hastily descended to the bottom of the trap, and disrobed 
himself of everything save his night-shirt, drawers, and 
socks. 

Bridger’s exertions had caused him to perspire freely. 

He completely saturated his handkerchief in wiping his 
face, neck, and hands in his endeavors to stanch the per- 
spiration. 

At length it dawned upon the trapped sleuth-hound that 
what he had considered perspiration was for the most part 
blood. 

Removing his hat he for the first time placed his hand to 
the wound on his head. 

He found that it was bleeding freely, and that his hair 
was one mass of clotted blood. 

Tying the handkerchief tightly about his head and jaws 
so as to inclose the wound, he knelt upon the earth and 
continued his work. 

He was fortunately possessed of a bachelor’s pin-card, 
filled with pins. 

Pinning his trousers outside of his boot-legs, he filled the 
trousers and boots full of the loose earth. 

Then pinning shut his overshirt at the bottom he filled it 
with the same commodity. 

Tearing the lining from his overcoat he tied in it the 
pieces of mortar which he had cut from the wall. 

The bundle snugly fitted his hat, and he jammed it to 
place in its crown. 

He then placed the several parts of the “dummy” to- 
gether on the earth, so as to represent a man of his size 
lying upon his face. 


230 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


Being only guided in his work by touch, he was careful 
to make the imitation as perfect as he could. 

He buttoned his vest about the stuffed shirt, buttoned his 
under-coat over that, and his overcoat over all, taking care 
to stuff the arms of the overcoat with earth, and bend 
them naturally under, so as not to discover the absence of 
hands. 

The hat with the bundle of mortar in its crown he care- 
fully pinned to place on the overcoat, and bent down its 
soft border so that it might require a close observation to 
perceive that there was not a human head beneath it. 

When he had satisfied himself that the “ dummy” would 
answer the purpose intended, the sleuth-hound placed his 
revolvers in the band of his drawers, the “big diamond” 
and his money wallet in one of his socks, and knife in 
hand, returned to his work on the wall. 

He found it so much easier to climb in his stocking feet 
that in a very few minutes he had ascended to a height of 
twenty feet from the earth. 

Here he made a number of deep cuts in the soft mortar, 
forming a perch in the corner where he could rest at ease 
with his back against the juncture of the two walls, and 
have his hands free to use his pistols if occasion required. 

Again descending to the trap’s bottom, he placed the 
mortar which he had removed beneath the “dummy.” 

He then smoothed the earthen floor from whence he had 
taken the earth as best he could. 

Then taking his watch from his vest-pocket, he placed it 
on the earth as far from the “dummy” as the length of the 
chain would permit. 

Having thus shaped his plan to resist the evident inten- 
tion of the burglars, he awaited their coming, listening at 
one of the interstices in the wall. 

How long he waited in damp and darkness, hearing 
nothing but the squeaking of the rats, the plashing of the 
sewer, and the dull hum from the bar-room above, he could 
not have determined at the time. 

Hours and even days seemed to pass, and he became 
chilled and shivered with the cold. 

To warm himself he began to trot to and fro along the 
wall. 

At length he became desperately hungry. 

He took a cigar from the dummy’s pocket, and, biting a 
piece from it, began to chew it. 

“What,” he thought, “if it should be Goucher’s purpose 
to starve me here.” 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


231 


If this was the intention of the “King of the Ken,” as it 
might be, he must endeavor to break his way through the 
wall. 

With this intent he had begun his search for an available 
point of operation, when he suddenly heard the creaking of 
an opening door. 

Hastening into one of the interstices in the wall he per- 
ceived far back to the leeward in the cellar without, a 
faint glimmer of light. 

He knew that it came from a dark lantern cautiously 
held. 

Suddenly the rays of the dark lantern flashed broadly 
across the cellar, and then all was dark again. 

That the burglars were coming to finish their murderous 
work Bridger felt assured. 

Hastening along the wall to the corner the caged sleuth- 
hound climbed to his perch above, and taking good foot- 
holds in the lodgements he had formed, braced himself 
back against the wall, cocked his revolvers, and held them 
ready for business. 

Suddenly a broad glare of light penetrated the interstices 
beneath, and on the instant a cotton ball, saturated with 
spirits of turpentine and blazing brightly, was hurled 
through a square hole in the rear wall, of whose existence 
Bridger was ignorant. 

The fire-ball fell several feet from the “ dummy,” and 
lighted up the space between the rough walls of the trap as 
bright as day. 

Bridger glanced at the “dummy,” and perceived that it 
had the exact resemblance of a man lying upon his face. 

A moment afterward a long pole, like a dust-brush 
handle, was thrust through one of the interstices beneath, 
and directly above the supposed man. 

On the upper end of the pole was fastened a bar of lead, 
and beneath it was attached an ugly knife. 

Its blade ran in curves, and its point was like that of a 
bayonet. 

An instant it glistened in the light, and then swiftly de- 
scended with a dull thud upon the back of the “dummy.” 

Had the supposed man possessed a heart the dagger 
would have cleft it, for it had been aimed with that intent. 

Thrice the terrible weapon was raised and sent home in 
quick succession, making as many punctures in Bridger’ s 
overcoat. 

Then the murderous implement was withdrawn, and the 


232 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


next moment the noise of loosing bolts and bars sounded 
from beneath. 

The narrow door in the rear wall opened, and Goucher, 
followed by “Jack, the Fork, 1 ’ entered the trap’s bottom. 

“He’s as dead as a herrin’,” said Goucher, “and when we 
get him safe abed with the shovel, I’ll be feelin’ safer.” 

As the two burglars advanced toward the “ dummy, ” it 
was only a question in Bridger’s mind which he would kill 
first. 

The sleuth-hound was by no means a blood-thirsty man, 
but the heart of the mountain catamount never leaped 
higher in glad expectation as he made ready to spring 
from the high bough upon the unsuspecting prey, than did 
Bridger’s as he leveled the tubes of his good pistols on that 
pair of scoundrels. 

He knew that his bullets would go just where he wanted 
them to go, and the chances were terribly in favor of the 
two men receiving their death summons then and there. 

As Goucher spoke, “Jack, the Fork’s” eye perceived the 
watch lying near the “dummy,” and he sprang forward to 
grasp it. 

This move elected Goucher the nearest man to the narrow 
door, and Bridger drew a “dead bead” on him. 

Just as the sleuth-hound laid his finger on the trigger, 
and was on the point of sending the ball through the bur- 
glar’s brain, the sound of hurrying footsteps came from 
overhead. 

On the instant a voice, which sounded from beneath in 
the trap, said : 

“Lay low, for Heaven’s sake ! It’s a pull !” 

Goucher and “Jack, the Fork,” started back, trembling 
in terror, and then advanced hastily toward the farther 
end of the trap. 

“Great Heaven!” muttered Goucher, “can it be they’ve 
dropped on us ?” 

“Jack, the Fork,” was too much alarmed to make answer, 
and the two thieves stood glaring at a speaking-tube which 
Bridger perceived ran down the wall from above, and 
through which the warning had been spoken. 

“You can bet your life, Goucher, you’re dropped on!” 
said Bridger, for the two men were now a safe distance 
from the door, and the sleuth-hound had determined if 
possible to hold them at bay until he had learned the out- 
come of the announced “pull.” 

Turning about, in a dazed manner, the two burglars be- 
held Bridger perched above them, in the corner of the wall. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


233 


To the sleuth-hound’s utter astonishment Goucher’s face 
suddenly assumed a ghastly pallor, his legs knocked to- 
gether in terror, and sinking to his knees on the earthen 
floor, he lifted his hands above his head as if in prayer. 

“Jack, the Fork,” speechless and trembling, perceiving 
his chief’s attitude, followed his example. 

Their sudden terror may be better understood when it is 
explained that Bridger’s underclothing was of bright red 
flannel, and his face, neck, hands, and hair were com- 
pletely covered and stained red with blood. 

The bloody handkerchief, tied about his head, seemed 
like two great red ears, and, in the glow of the fire-ball, he 
much resembled the stage devil, who springs suddenly to 
view through the wall in the theater. 

Perceiving that the trembling burglars evidently believed 
that he was either the avenging spirit of the dead sleuth- 
hound or Old Nick himself, Bridger said in the deepest 
tones he could command : 

“Now, keep to your knees, for the man who first at- 
tempts to rise goes first to Hades !” 


CHAPETR LVIII. 

THE SCOTCH DETECTIVE TO THE RESCUE. 

The mystified burglars remained mutely upon their 
knees, their hands clasped and trembling, and their eyes 
glaring wildly at the blood-red apparition above them. 

Meanwhile Bridger kept them covered with his revolvers, 
listened intently to the growing noise above and watched 
the fire-ball which still continued to blaze brightly. 

So long as it held out to burn the kneeling villains were 
safe. 

Did it give signs of burning out two sharp reports had 
rung out between the damp walls of the trap, and their 
lives had gone out with it. 

Lower and weaker burned the blaze, but ere it had so far 
drooped as to make Bridger an executioner, the harsh 
blows of an ax sounded on the floor directly above. 

A rain of splinters came flying down, and the next 
moment the huge trap-door of the “sawdust den” fell back 
on its hinges, and, glancing upward, Bridger perceived a 
line of blue-coated policemen peering downward, while 
among them, ax in hand, stood the Scotch detective. 


234 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEK. 


The Scotch detective, true to his appointment, had en- 
tered the office of the hotel at the hour of one. 

He was surprised to find Bridger absent, for he had 
always found him as prompt as the clock before. 

As the afternoon wasted on by two, and then by three 
o’clock, and Bridger came not, the Scotch detective became 
alarmed. 

Hastening to the Bower Detective Agency, he was the 
more dumfounded at learning that Bridger had not been 
there. 

But when Detective Bower informed him of the Muggins’ 
burglary he suspected Bridger ’s whereabouts at once. 

Hastening to police headquarters on Mulberry street, he 
stated his fears to the superintendent, and that officer at 
once dispatched in his company a trio of detectives and a 
squad of policemen to “pull” the Goucher den. 

As the officers entered the den, Ted, the bartender, 
dropped behind the bar, and warned Goucher and “Jack, 
the Fork,” through the tube. 

The next moment the bartender and “Tom, the Frog,” 
were made prisoners, and the search of the house began. 

The Scotch detective procured an ax, and led directly to 
the “sawdust den.” 

The door was burst open, and then the ax was used upon 
the trap -door. 

A few well-directed blows, and it fell, as we have seen. 

“Too late! alas, we’re too late!” exclaimed the Scotch 
detective, as his eyes fell upon the life-like “dummy” prone 
on the trap’s bottom. 

“By no means, Fandon ; you’re just on time,” called 
back Bridger, brandishing his pistols, in his perch in the 
corner, to attract the attention of those above. 

The Scotch detective and the line of officers glared at the 
red sleuth-hound on the wall in astonishment. 

They could hardly believe the evidence their eyes pre- 
sented. 

“Make no mistake,” said Bridger, perceiving their sur- 
prise, and striking his breast with one of his pistols. “This 
red thing here on the wall is Bob Bridger, and that dead 
man stretched out below is a stuffed dummy !” 

Realizing the situation, the officers burst forth in a 
hearty cheer. 

Goucher and “Jack, the Fork,” also bounded to their 
feet. 

“Steady there, .Goucher. Steady, ‘Jack, the Fork,’ ” 
warned Bridger, leveling his pistols upon the two men, 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED,. 


235 


“ Ay, stop where you are, or we’ll riddle you !” cried the 
police sergeant, and a dozen ugly pistol tubes pointed down 
from the trap’s edge. 

“ I cave !” ejaculated Goucher, throwing up his hands. 

“ Jack, the Fork,” followed his example. 

“You are wise,” returned the sergeant. “And now tell 
us how to get down there. ” 

“Through the flat cellar door in the back yard.” 

The instruction, however, was not needed, for the Scotch 
detective, leading the Central Office detectives, had already 
found the way. 

And barely had Goucher spoken when the Scotch detec- 
tive, lantern in hand, bounded through the narrow door- 
way into the trap beneath, followed by his companions. 

The next moment Goucher and “Jack, the Fork,” heard 
the old familiar click of steel as the Central Office detec- 
tives snapped the “ ruffles” on their wrists. 

“Come down, Bobe, and let us be sure it’s you !” yelled 
the Scotch detective, and, as if his mind had some mis- 
givings on the subject, he turned the “duumy” over with 
his foot. 

Perceiving that it was in truth a “dummy,” he roared in 
laughter. 

Descending the wall as swiftly as his stiffened members 
would permit, Bridger soon reached the earthen floor. 

The Scotch detective awaited him with open arms, and 
the two sleuth-hounds testified to their mutual satisfaction 
at the turn of events by giving each other a manly hug. 

“I’d never thought it you, Bobe, if you hadn’t said so. 
You’re red as blood from head to foot. Are you hurt?” 
said the Scotch detective. 

“A slight cut on the head, which a little soap and water 
will fix all right. ” 

“And how did they get you here?” 

“Well, I chanced to meet Goucher on my way to the 
Bower Agency, and, feeling very grateful for past favors, 
he desired to present me some letters which he had re- 
ceived from the secretary of a gang of Kentucky moon- 
shiners ; and, like a good gudgeon, I swallowed the miser- 
able old devil’s bait.” 

“You needn’t call me a devil,” growled Goucher, “for if 
the old fireman himself sports any worse make-up than 
you do, I want no ‘truck’ with him. Pew-rents would 
take a raise if you could be induced to exhibit yourself in 
a cage.” 


236 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


Removing the pins and earth from the “dummy,” Bridger 
proceeded to don his ill-used clothes. 

This done, the Central Office detectives led forth their 
prisoners, the Scotch detective and Bridger following. 

The two sleuth-hounds entered the bar-room above, 
and, when Bridger had washed the blood from his head, 
face, and hands, they joined in the search. 

Beneath the floor in the bedroom adjoining the “sawdust 
den” a trunk containing the “boodle” taken from the Mug- 
gins 1 safe was found, and the four burglars were taken, 
with it, to police headquarters. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

MR. AND MRS. M’GINTY. 

Had the bartender’s “billy” struck as he had aimed it 
there can be little doubt that the ill-treatment which the 
innocent “dummy” bore would have ended the official 
career of Bob Bridger, detective. 

The quick movement Bridger had made as the blow fell 
brought him through with a severe scalp wound, but a 
whole skull. 

So said the doctor who dressed the wound, after the 
“pull” was complete. 

On quitting the physician’s office the two sleuth-hounds 
repaired to the Bond street apartments, and when Bridger 
had made a complete change of attire, they rejoined the 
party at the hotel and had dinner. 

That evening the Scotch detective informed Annette of 
the widow’s proposed wedding. 

As he had supposed, the conversation swung naturally 
around toward their own affair, and ended in a definite 
understanding, to which Dr. Macy was a party, that they 
should become man and wife at the same time and place. 

Fearing that the investigations of the police might dis- 
cover the identity of the crazy giant, the Scotch detective 
explained the situation to Meg, and it was determined that 
she and u Silly” Billy should depart for Garson on the ex- 
press train leaving Jersey City at seven on the subsequent 
evening. 

After breakfast next morning Meg instructed Billy to 
have himself cleanly shaved, while she prepared herself 
for the shopping tour she had projected. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


237 


“ Silly” Billy visited the barber and a candy store, and 
returned to the hotel looking bright and clean, and munch- 
ing the sweetmeats with which he had gorged his pockets. 

Soon after he and Meg departed from the hotel. 

Upon every babe in the street, and every little girl and 
boy he encountered in the stores, Billy bestowed a handful 
of candy. 

This quaint expression of liberality, combined with his 
silly, gentle manners and remarks, made much fun for 
mothers and nurses, and the bright eyes of many a grand 
dame and pretty maid beamed kindly upon him. 

Under Meg’s influence the crazy giant had become as 
gentle as a child, while in strength he far excelled any of 
the busy, scheming throng of men that swarmed about. 

Contrasted with his mental, money-getting superiors, he 
possessed qualities which the eyes of beauty were as quick 
to discern and approve as flies are to gather on a grain of 
sugar amid a ton of salt. 

But this did not altogether suit Meg. 

So, to give Billy other occupation than trading “sweets 
for sweets,” she ignored the privilege of having her pur- 
chases delivered at the hotel, and piled Billy’s arms full of 
bundles. 

At two in the afternoon, as they were walking in a cross 
street, Billy suddenly stopped to get a better grip on the 
armful of packages, and at the same time intimated to Meg 
that he desired to eat. 

“Yez does be always wantin’ to ate, ye overgrown vaga- 
bond,” quoth Meg. “But, however, I’ve made all the pur- 
chases I can call to my moind at the prisint, and we’ll be 
off to the hotel. ” 

As she spoke she happened to glance at the building op- 
posite, and perceiving that it was a church, and that people 
were passing out and in at its doors, she grasped Billy’s 
coat-tail, restraining the mad gait at which he had set out 
for the proposed lunch, and bringing him to a right about 
halt. 

“ There’s one thing,” said Meg, “which, among all the 
foinery of the stores, I did be almost forgettin’, Billy.” 

“ Hand what do hit be. Misses Meg ?” 

“I’ve made up me moind to marry you, Billy.” 

“Well, hanythink has’ll suit you, Misses Meg, ’ll suit 
me,” simpered Billy, as, by,a cleverly executed maneuver 
he managed to hold on to the bundles, and pass a handful 
of candy into the broad, grinning cavity which answered 
as a mouth. 


238 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


“Well, come on,” said Meg, and she led directly across 
to the church. 

Ascending the church steps, Meg passed within, fol- 
lowed by Billy and the bundles. 

A committee, arranging the details of a coming church 
fair, occupied the building at the time, and two reverend 
fathers stood behind the railing at the sanctuary. 

Up the aisle Meg progressed in a business like manner, 
and pausing directly before the more portly of the two 
fathers, said : 

“Your riverence, I have just drapped in to pay you 
twinty dollars for the celebration of our union. ” 

As she spoke she blushed deeply, and directed her glance 
toward Billy. 

He had paused at her elbow, and dropping the bundles 
on the floor, leaned forward upon the railing, extending a 
handful of candy toward the clergyman. 

He had also failed to remove his hat, and the two fathers 
glared at him in astonishment. 

Snatching the hat from his head, and giving his coat tails 
a jerk that brought him to an erect position, Meg shrieked 
in his ear : 

“ Do ye think yer at a bar, ye unmannerly vagabond, ye. ” 

The eyes of the committee and of the fathers had rested 
meanwhile upon the bundles, and as their ideas ran toward 
contributions to the fair the portly father, in response to 
Meg’s proposal, said : 

“I am glad to see, my child, that you take so much 
interest in the fair. ” 

“Yer riverence,” returned Meg, indignantly, “it ill be- 
comes one of yer cloth to joke wid a poor woman. Ye 
know very well, by the cut av the jib av ’um that he’s not 
fair, but he’s good, and that’s whoy I take interest in ’um.” 

‘ ‘ I was speaking of the church fair that we are about to 
have,” said the father. 

“And Oy was spakin’ av the husband that Oi’m about to 
have, wid your consint, for twinty dollars. ” 

“Oh, I see !” ejaculated the priest, eying Billy, who had 
begun to dance. “And do you really wish to marry him?” 

“Av coorse I do. Whoy not?” 

“And does he wish to marry you?” 

“Av coorse. Don’t you, Billy?” 

“Hanythink has’ll suit Misses Meg’ll suit Billy.” 

“But he acts somewhat strangely,” observed the priest. 

“Whist! yer riverence,” quoth Meg, and she leaned 
forward, and whispered in the father’s ear : 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


239 


“ Don’t be moindin’ the lad. He’s a little daft, but, for 
a ft that, he’s awful knowin 1 and cunnin’, and I loves him.” 

He is an Englishman, is he not ?” asked the clergyman. 

“Ph, it’s mesilf don’t know phat his nationality is, yer 
river ence. Oi’ve sometimes thought he moight be a cross 
betune a kangaroo and an elephant. But niver do ye 
moind; it’s all right.” 

“Well, what is his name?” 

“Billy’s all I knows, yer riverence. But Oi’ve named 
him William McGinty, afther my own dear, dead ould 
father. And, yer riverence, if ye’ll bless the name to 
him, and perform the ceremony, ye shall have the twinty 
dollars.” 

Much to Meg’s amazement and disappointment, the 
clergyman would not perform the ceremony until all the 
rules of the church had been complied with. One of these 
rules was that the names of the couple should be “called 
out” in church for two successive Sundays. There could 
be no exception to these rules, the clergyman said, and 
they had to submit. 

The long wait was irksome to the anxious Meg, but the 
eventful day came at last, and on it Billy and she were 
made man and wife. 

Meg determined to keep her marriage a secret even from 
Annette, but the facts leaked out when she had boarded 
the train in the evening. 

The party from the hotel had accompanied the couple to 
the train, and were sitting and awaiting the signal for its 
departure at the time in the sleeping-car. 

The Scotch detective had assured Meg that she would 
find no difficulty in taking possession of her late husband’s 
property, and was promising to visit her soon in company 
with Annette, Mr. Macy, and Bridger, when the conductor 
of the car came by. 

“I wish to pay you for these two sections,” said the 
Scotch detective, indicating the two opposite compart- 
ments in which the party sat. 

“Whoy?” quoth Meg. “There’s no one going but Billy 
an’ mesilf, is there ?” 

“That’s all.” 

“Thin one sickshont will be all that yez need pay for.” 

Annette started and glared at Meg in mute astonishment. 

a Och, sure, thin, Annette,” said Meg, “ye nadn’t be 
puttin’ on such a look av outrageous wondermint. Thare 
it is for ye to rade for yersilf, and Qi’m not ashamed of it 
nayther.” 


240 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED. 


As she spoke she drew the marriage certificate from her 
breast and placed it in Annette’s hands. 

“Why, Mam Meg’s married !” exclaimed Annette, and 
then she burst forth in a merry fit of laughter. 

“ And phat do you see to laugh at I dunno ?” quoth Keg. 
“But I knew it ’ud be so.” 

“Why, Mam Meg,” returned Annette, “I never dreamed 
that you would do such a down right mean thing. ” 

“Mean thing, is it? Be the powers, Oi’m not ashamed of 
it, thin.” 

“But the idea that you would go off by yourself and get 
married, and not even ask me to the wedding.” 

“I would have asked yez all,” returned Meg. “but I 
knew yez would all be laughin’ at the match. And you 
can laugh, me pretty little lady if ye will. But whin ye’ve 
been married to a couple av crusty ould scoundrels, one 
afther the other, loike mesilf, ye’ll begin ter foind out for 
yersilf that ther does be an oshent of truth in the words of 
the poik whin he says : ‘ If you would marry, marry a 
fool.” 

All hastened to assure the bride that she had misjudged 
them, and promising soon to visit the newly married 
couple, and wishing them a long life of happiness, the 
party of friends stepped from the car. 

A moment later the train glided from the depot, and thus 
Mr. and Mrs. McGinty began their honey-moon tour. 


CHAPTER LX. 

CONCLUSION. 

It was not long after the arrest of Goucher and his gang 
when “Jack, the Fork,” turned State’s evidence. 

A further search beneath the den unearthed three bodies 
decomposed beyond recognition, and two skeletons. 

The evidence was of such a damning nature against the 
“gang” that, by their attorney’s advice, they pleaded guilty 
to the Muggins’ burglary. 

The judge accepted their plea, and sentenced the four 
men to State prison for life. 

******** 

The bulk of the valuables taken from the Muggins’ safe 
was returned to the heirs of Moses Muggins, Rachel, and 
Sammy. 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 


241 


The terrible ordeal which Sammy Muggins passed 
through on discovering his brother’s body unsettled his 
brain, and Rachel became custodian of the entire estate. 

A week subsequent to her father’s funeral, Rachel wed 
Carl Ringle, the tailor, and a prosperous clothing store, 
and a dozen young Ringles, who romp and play with 
simple-minded old Sammy, are at present the prominent 
features of the Muggins’ mansion on East Broadway. 
******** 

Dr. Macy provided Annette a magnificent wedding outfit, 
and both he and the Scotch detective purchased numerous 
rich presents for Mr. and Mrs. McGinty, and for Mrs. Bibby 
and Tom Bowling. 

Everything being arranged for the event, the wedding 
party set forth for Corydon, and arrived there on the day 
appointed for the widow’s marriage. 

They were cordially received by Tom Bowling and the 
widow, and that night the double wedding occurred, and 
was a very happy affair. 

Next day the party departed for Gar son, and found Mr. 
and Mrs. McGinty peacefully installed in the Bolard hotel. 

The hotel was doing a thriving business, chiefly on ac- 
count of the landlandy’s return, and Mr. McGinty, with a 
wink and a simper, led his sleuth-hound friends to his 
private barrel. 

The funds found in Bolard ’s safe, together with the hotel 
property and two rich farms, now formed the estate of 
Mrs. McGinty, who appeared to be fully aware that she 
was the wealthiest and best dressed female in the village. 

She professed herself happy that Annette had married 
the man of her heart, but when the time came for parting 
she broke down completely and wept bitterly. 

******** 

Soon after the Scotch detective, his beautiful bricle, and 
Dr. Macy sailed for England. 

Altthough the “big diamond” sparkled on Bridger’s shirt- 
front, and the old doctor’s draft for two thousand pounds 
was in his wallet, he felt like one alone and deserted as he 
beheld the huge steamer glide from sight down the bay. 

He almost felt like rushing off and getting married him- 
self. 

In fact, if the truth were known, he never did rest con- 
tent until he met and married the fair Philadelphia maiden 
who is now his wife. 

Although the management of the large Godot estate now 


242 


DETECTIVE BOB BEIDGEK. 


devolved upon the Scotch detective, he remained for 
several years upon the Scotland Yard detective force, and 
was ultimately made an inspector of the London police. 

This proud position he subsequently resigned, and he is 
at present part owner and manager of one of the largest 
lines of steamships sailing from England. 

Nine years subsequent to his marriage with Annette, or 
in the fall of the year 1882, an incident happened in London 
without recounting which the tale of the Scotch detective 
would be incomplete. 

One afternoon, as Manager Fandon sat in the palatial 
offices of the steamship company in London, a messenger 
oame to him from a third-rate hotel near the docks. 

A sick woman had that day arrived in England upon a 
steamship, and the doctor said she was dying. 

She wished to see Fandon, Annette, their children if they 
had any, and Dr. Macy. 

Who the sick woman was Fandon could not imagine. 

What if it should prove to be Annette’s mother, Alice, 
and the marble slab which bore her name, combined with 
that of her murdered husband, prove a mistake ? 

Fandon was on the point of driving around himself to 
solve the mystery, when an open-topped family carriage 
drove up and halted in the street near his office. 

In it sat Annette, still winsome and beautiful, but more 
matronly in appearance than of yore. 

Facing her was Dr. Macy, happier and younger in his 
own belief, than ever any man of his years had felt before. 

Occupying the seat with him were three handsome, 
black-eyed boys, the picture of their father, while two 
golden-haired, blue-eyed girls, types of their fair mother, 
nestled at her side. 

When Fandon appeared and spoke of the strange sum- 
mons he had received, Dr. Macy and Annette became much 
interested, and, at their earnest desire, Fandon entered the 
carriage, and instructed the coachman to drive to the hotel 
indicated. 

Soon after Fandon entered the sick-room, followed by 
Dr. Macy, Annette, and the children. 

A thin, emaciated ‘creature lay upon the bed. 

Her eyes were closed, and, to all appearances, she was 
dead. 

A physician sat at the bedside, clasping the wrist of the 
dying woman. 

“Poor thing! she’s almost gone,” said the doctor, “and 
she seemed so anxious to see you and your family, sir,” 


DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGED,. 


243 


“Who is she?” asked Fandon, for he did not recognize 
the woman’s wan features. 

u I have not learned her name,” said the doctor. “She 
was brought here from the steamship she came on, and 
soon after swooned away from sheer weakness. She has 
revived several times, and asked if you had come ; but I 
fear it is all over with her now. ” 

Dr. Macy looked intently into the woman’s face, but he 
could not recognize her. 

Annette bent over the bed and suddenly started back 
with a scream. 

“ Great Heaven ! it is poor Mam Meg !” she cried. 

As she spoke the sufferer’s eyes opened. 

Annette kissed her thin lips and looked tearfully into her 
face, waiting to see if she would speak. 

“It is you, Annette. I — I thought I knew that voice,” 
gasped the dying woman as the tears coursed down her 
cheeks. 

A moment she paused to catch her breath. Then she 
continued : 

“Oh, I have been so sick! Billy died four years ago. 
Drink — drink killed him.” 

Even as the dying woman said, the crazy giant had suc- 
cumbed to a continual over indulgence of liquor, which 
had brought on paralysis, from which he died. 

He had been so kind and gentle in his obedience to Meg’s 
every whim that her life had become wrapped up in his, 
and when he died she felt his loss most keenly. 

She had always smoked a little, but after Billy’s death 
she became morose, shut herself in her room for days at a 
time, brooding over her trouble, and smoking her pipe 
constantly. 

At length she became sick and confined to her bed. 

The doctor said that too much smoking had formed a 
cancer in her stomach. 

Feeling that she had but a short while to live, she caused 
her attorney to dispose of her real estate, and departed for 
England more dead than alive, resolved to see once again 
the fair face of the little lady she had reared from an out- 
cast babe. 

“Where — where is your — husband?” gasped the dying 
woman. 

Fandon leaned forward beside his wife, so that she 
might see him. 

Meg tried to smile, and her tears coursed down afresh. 

“ Children ?” she muttered. 


244 DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 

One by one Fandon lifted his three boys so that she 
might see them. 

Then he lifted to her gaze one of the blue-eyed baby girls 
on either arm. 

Meg looked at them, then slowly pointing to them, and 
looking toward Annette, said : 

“Like you — like you were.” 

Then suddenly exerting her little remaining strength as 
if she had something important to reveal which she had 
almost forgotten, she grasped Annette’s arm. 

“ Annette — Annette !” she gasped. “ There — there — get 
it — get it — the little black satchel !” 

Among her trunks and bandboxes near was a small, 
black traveling-bag, and Roe Fandon, Jr., Fandon’ s eldest 
boy, ran and got it. 

“ There’s a letter — a letter in it for you. Billy wrote it — 
just — before — he — died, ” gasped the dying woman, address- 
ing Fandon. “The — rest — is — yours — Annette.” 

Meg’s eyes assumed a vacant stare as she spoke, and she 
seemed lapsing into unconsciousness. 

Her skinny hands trembled violently, and the doctor 
shook his head. 

Fandon and Annette in their solicitude for the dying 
woman, had almost forgotten the satchel and letter of 
which she had spoken, when young Roe, who had opened 
the bag and taken from it the crumpled scrawl, which 
proved to be “Silly” Billy’s letter, and, reading its entire 
contents, piped out : 

“See-ree go ! Master Fandon, see-ree-go !” 

The boy’s musical pronunciation sounded much as that 
of the crazy giant had done when he had felt cheerful and 
glad of heart, and the dying woman, as she heard it, 
started up in the bed. 

Her eyes beamed with pleasure, a glad smile grew upon 
her thin features, and, extending her arms as if to infold a 
dearly loved friend, she ejaculated : 

“Oh, Billy!” 

And, still smiling, as if in glad recognition of one she 
loved, she sank back upon the bed, dead. 

Fandon wiped the tears from his eyes, and placed Billy’s 
brief letter in his pocket-book. 

Annette carried the little satchel home with her, too 
much overcome with grief to look at its contents. 

That night it was found to contain United States Govern- 
ment bonds to the amount of forty thousnd dollars. 

The undertaker brought the dead woman’s body to Fan* 


DETECTIVE BOB BBIDGEB. 


245 


don’s cozy home, and from there it was buried in his own 
plot in Kendal Green Cemetery, near the last resting-place 
of Alfonse and Alice Godot. 

Some time afterward Bridger received a letter from 
Fandon, in which he said : 

“ I want you to go to Garson for me, have Billy’s body 
exhumed, placed in an iron casket, and forwarded to my 
address in London. It is Annette’s wish. She seems to 
think that Meg, might she know it, would be glad to have 
Billy sleeping at her side. And between the two of us, 
Bridger, when the last trump shall sound, and the dead 
arise, whose hand would we sooner grasp or whose voice 
sooner hear than Billy’s?” 

Bridger did as requested, and the crazy giant’s bones 
now rest side by side with those of his wife Meg, and on 
the marble block that marks his tomb is inscribed : 

“In Memory of William McGinty.” 

“ See-ree-go ! Master Fandon ! See-ree-go /” 

(THE END.) 


“MUERTALMA; or. The Poisoned Pin/' by Marma- 
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No. 23— McGINTY’S TWINS, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 22 — PHIL AND HIS TORPEDO BOAT, by Harry St. George. 

No. 21— McGINTY’S GAMBOLS, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 20— THE MYSTERY AT RAHWAY, by Chester F. Baird. 

No. 19— STANLEY’S BOY COURIER, by The Old Showman. 

No. 18— DIAMOND DICK’S CLAIM, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 17-DIAMOND DICK’S DEATH TRAIL, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 16— DASHING DIAMOND DICK, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 15-SMART ALECK ON HIS TRAVELS, by Frank. 

No. 14-SMART ALECK’S SUCCESS, by Frank. 

No. 13— THE SEARCH FOR CAPTAIN KIDD, by Col Juan Lewis. 

No. 12— MECHINET, THE FRENCH DETECTIVE, by Frauds A. Durivage. 

No. 11— BOSS OF LONG HORN CAMP; or, A Fortune for a Ransom, by A. C. 
Monson. 

No. 10-BASE-BALL BOB ; or, The King of the Third Base, by Edward T. 

Taggard (Paul Pryor). 

No. 9-YOUNG SANTEE, THE BOOTBLACK PRINCE ; or, The Boy Wizard of 

the Bowery, by Raymond Clyde. 

No. 8— NED HAMILTON ; or, The Boys of Bassington School, byFletcher Cowan. 
No. 7— THE CRIMSON TRAIL; or, On Custer’s Last War-Path, by Buffalo Bill. 
No. 6— THE FLOATING ACADEMY ; or, The Terrible Secrets of Doctor Switchera’ a 
School-Ship, by Dash Dale. 

No. 5— NIMBLE NIP, THE CALL-BOY OF THE OLYMPIC THEATER, by John 

A. Mack. 

No. 4— THE GAYEST BOY IN NEW YORK; or, Adventures by GasUght, by 

Dash Kingston. 

No. 3-BOUNCER BROWN ; or, He Was Bound to Find His Father, by Com- 
modore Ah-Look. 

No. 2— UNDER THE GULF; or, The Strange Voyage of the Torpedo Boat, by 

Harry St. George. 

No. 1— SMART ALECK ; or, A Crank’s Legacy, by Frank. 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, post* 
paid, on receipt of price, 3 cents each, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

F. 0. Box 2734. 25-31 Bose Street, New York. 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD* 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 23. 


JPrice* 25 Cents. 


Some Omnions of the Press. 

•• As the probabilities are remote of the play * The Old Homestead ’ being 
seen anywhere but In large cities It is only fair that the story of the piece should 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal which 
Is not said or done on the boards, yet it is no more verbose than such a story 
should be and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It is to be honed teat the book will make 
a large sale, not only on its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— N. Y. Herald, June 2d. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ Is a story of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerat d home; of a grand old man. honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves Ills life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned in 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and jealousy, without an Impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
fields in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ N. Y. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New York Weekly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of 4 The Old Homestead,’ the- play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus justifying the foresight of the publishers In giving the 
drama this permanent Action form.”— N. Y. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“The popularity of Denman Thompson’s play of * The Old Homestead* has 
encouraged street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set In the same scenes and Including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book Is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste 
and real ability with which It is written. The publishers are street &, Smith, and 
they have gotten the volume up In cheap popular form.”— N. Y. Graphic, May 29. 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep 
dtatlon, to every play-goer in the country. Its truth to nature and its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved in this story, which is founded upon it 
and follows Its Incidents closely. The requirements of the stag make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in the little New Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it is like from the book. Both are free from sentimentally 
and sensation, and are remarkably healthy in tone.” - Albany Express. 

“Denman Thompson’s 'Old Homestead* has been put into story -form ana \s Is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen it the great popularity of the play .”— Brooklyn Times, June 8tli. 

i “The fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
as It was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they ha^e seen the 
play or not .”— National Tribune, Washington, D. G. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey. and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the incidents which have held audiences spell bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the Innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his recovery by 
the good old man who braves the metropolis to find him. The story embodies au 
that the play tells, and all that it suggests as well.”— Kansas Citn JoumaL 
MayKth* 


THE COUNTY FAIR. 

By NEIL BURGESS. 

Written from tlie celebrated play now 
running its second continuous season in 
New York, and booked to run a third sea- 
son in the same theater. 

The scenes are among the New Hamp- 
shire hills, and picture the bright side of 
country life. r Ihe story is full of amusing 
events and happy incidents, something 
after the style of our “Old Homestead,” 
which is having such an enormous sale. 

“THE COUNTY FAIR” will be one 
of the great hits of the season, and should 
you fail to secure a copy you will miss a 
literary treat. It is a spirited romance of 
town and country, and a faithful repro- 
duction of the drama, with the same unique 
characters, the same graphic scenes, but 
with the narrative more artistically rounded, and completed than was 
possible in the brief limits of a dramatic representation. This touch- 
ing story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the 
introduction of an impure thought or suggestion. Read the following 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 

Mr. Neil Burg-ess has rewritten his play, “The Comity Fair,” in story form. It 
rounds out a narrative which is comparatively hut sketched in the play. It only needs 
the first sentence to set going the memory and imagination of those who have seen the 
latter and whet the appetite for the rest of this lively conception of a live dramatist.— 
Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 

As “The County Fair” threatens to remain in New York for a long time the general 
public out of town may be glad to learn that the playwright has put the piece into print 
in the form of a story. A tale based upon a play may sometimes lack certain literary 
qualities, but it never is the sort of thing over which any one can fall asleep. For- 
tunately, “The County Fair” on the stage and in print is by the same author, so there 
can be no reason for fearing that the book misses any of the points of the drama which 
has been so successful — A'. Y. Herald. 

The idea of turning successful plays into novels seems to be getting popular. The 
latest book of this description is a story reproducing the action and incidents of Neil 
Burgess’ play, “The County Fair.” The tale, which is a rom ance based on scenes of 
home life and domestic joys and sorrows, follows closely the lines of the drama in 
story and plot.— Chicago Daily News. 

Mr. Burgess’ amusing plaj r , “The County Fair.” has been received with such favor 
that he has worked it over and expanded it into a novel of more than 200 pages. It will 
be enjoyed even by those who have never heard the play and still more by those who 
have.— Cincinnati Tinies-Star. 

This touching story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting- in every part, without the introduction of 
an impure thought or suggestion.— A lban> Press. 

Street & Smith have issued “The County Fair.” This is a faithful reproduction of 
the drama of that name and is an all ecting and vivid story of domestic life, joy and 
sorrow, and rural scenes.— San Francisco Call. 

This romance is written from the play of this name and is full of touching incidents. 

—Evansville Journal. 

It is founded on the popular play of the same name, in which Neil Burgess, who is 
also the author of the story, has achieved the dramatic success of the season.— Fall 
River Herald. 

Tho County FaiT is No. 33 of “The Select Series,” for 
sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent, on receipt of price, 25 cents, to any 
address, postpaid, by STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 25-31 Rose st., New York. 



BERTHA M. CLAY’S 

LATEST 

Copyright Novels, 

1 1ST 

The Select Series. 

Price, 25 Cents EacLi. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


No. 22 -A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 28.— A HEART’S IDOL. 

No. 36.— THE G-IPSY’S DAUGHTER. 
No. 37.— IN LOVES CRUCIBLE. 

No. 39.— MARJORIE DEANE. 

These novels are among the hest ever writ- 
ten hy BERTHA M. CLAY, and are enjoying 
an enormous sale. They are copyrighted and 
can be had only in THE SELECT SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 25 cents each, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Bose Street, New York. 


Mss. Georgie Sheldon’s 

LATEST 

Copyright Novels, 

1 1ST 

Tme Select Series. 


Price, Q3 Cents Eaola. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


No. 16-SIBYL’S INFLUENCE. 

No. 24— THAT DOWDY. 

No. 43-TRIXY. 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT. 

These novels, from the pen of our gifted au- 
thor, who writes exclusively for us, are among 
her most popular productions, and hold the front 
rank in first-class literature. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 25 cents each, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Rose Street, New York. 


OF 


POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT NOVELS, 

BY NOTABLE AUTHORS. 



OR, 


THE WEAVER’S WAR. 


By PROFESSOR WM. HENRY PECK, 

AUTHOR OF 

“Marlin Marduke,” “£15,000 Reward,” “Siballa, 
the Sorceress,” etc. 


From the very opening paragraph this powerful and intensely exciting 
romance enchains the attention and keeps curiosity constantly active. The 
scene opens in the manufacturing center of Lyons, during a troublesome 
period in her history, when the laboring classes strove to maintain their 
rights against the nobility. The hero, whom fate lias made an humble 
workman, finds opportunity for the display of those self-asserting qualities, 
which always force their possessor to the front in every contest. While 
most of the action is thrilling and dramatic, a captivating love episode is 
adroitly interwoven with the main thread of the romance. The mystery 
appertaining to the early life of the Locksmith, the appalling accusation 
which makes him the victim of unseen foes, his fortitude in the most trying 
positions, and his final vindication and reward, are forcibly and sympatheti- 
cally set forth in this well constructed story. 


PRICE, 25 CENTS 


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p. o. Box, 3134. 31 ROSE STREET, New York. 



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WOMEN’S SECRETS 


TLe public are at last permitted to take a peep into the 
wonderful and mysterious art of 

“HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.” 

We will soon become a nation of Beauty. Bead how, in the table of 

CONTENTS : 

THU VALUE OF PERSONAL BEAUTY.- 1 This chapter relates to the beauty 
iu “Genius,” “Strength,” “Religion,” “Poetry,” and “Chivalry.” 

TH^. HISTORY OF B EAUTY.— Mode of acquiring it by the people of different 
nations. What people are the most beautiful? 

VARIOUS STANDARDS OF BEAUTY.— Tastes of civilized and uncivilized 
people. The French definition of beauty. 

THE BEST STANDARD OF BEAUT Y.— Defines the Head, Hair, Eyes, Cheeks, 
Ears, Nose, Mouth, Bosom, Limbs, and in fact every part of the human form. 

HOW TO RAISE BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN.— To newly married people, and 
those who contemplate entering the conjugal state, this chapter alone is 
well worth the price of the book. 

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.— This chapter is full of information, as it not only 
tells how to beautify every part of the form and features, but gives recipes 
and cures for all the ailments which tend to mar or blemish. 

BEAUTY SLEEP.— To be beautiful it is not necessary to be like the bird that 
seeks its nest at sunset and goes forth again at sunrise. You will here find 
the required time to be spent iu bed, the positions most conducive to health, 
facts regarding ventilation, bed-clothes, adornments, and other useful hints. 

BEAUTY FOOD.— Instructs how, when, and where to eat, and also treats of 
Digestion, Complexion, Foods which color tin skin, etc. 

HOW TO BE FAT.— The information imparted in this chapter will be a boon to 
thin, delicate women, as it tells what to eat and what to avoid, also what to 
drink and how to dress when plumpness is desirable. 

HOW TO BE LEAN.— If corpulent women will carefully follow the instructions 
herein, they will be happy and enjoy life. 

BEAUTY BATHING AND EXERCISE.— 1 This chapter is intended for every 
one to read and profit by. There is no truer saying than “Cleanliness is next 
to Godliness.” 

EFFECTS OF MENTAL EMOTIONS ON BEAUTY.— After you read this, we 
feel safe in saying that you will not give way to anger, surprise, fright, grief, 
vexation, etc., but will at all times strive to be cheerful and make the best 
of life. 

HOW BEAUTY IS DESTROYED —The women are warned in this chapter 
against quack doctors and their nostrums, the dangers of overdosing, and 
irregular habits. 

HOW TO REMAIN BEAUTIFUL.— It is just as easy for those that are beauti- 
ful to remain so as to allow themselves to fade awaj r like a flower which 
only blooms for a season. 

HOW TO ACQUIRE GRACE AND STYLE.— Without grace and style beauty 
is lost They are as essential as a beautiful face. To walk ungracefully or 
awkwardly is not only vulgar but detrimental to the health. 

THE LANGUAGE OF BEAUTY. — This chapter will enable you to read a per- 
son and learn his or her character, without the use of a phrenological chart. 

CORSETS.- When and wliat kind should be worn. How they were originated, 
and by whom. 

CYCLING.— The latest craze for ladies is fully described in this chapter. 


WOMEN’S SECRETS ; or, Hoi to be Beautiful 

THE BEST SELLING BOOK OF THE DAY. 


-Tnst Out. I^rice 2£> Cents. 

For Hale by all Newsdealers. 


STREET & SMITH, Publishers. 

31 Ifeose Htreet. 



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